


fate is overgrown

by thememoriesfire



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-20
Updated: 2009-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thememoriesfire/pseuds/thememoriesfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A map is more unreal than where you've been, or how you feel.  [Katie and Effy reconnect at age 22, and have a plethora of scars to each put aside before they can move on from sixth form.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	fate is overgrown

**Author's Note:**

> Again, from years ago, and by request. The formatting on this is 8 shades of a hot mess because I had to copy/pasta from a bunch of non-AO3 compliant sources and I really, REALLY cannot be bothered to proof 50k of fanfiction about a show that hasn't been around in 3 years now, so... sorry, but this is as good as it gets!

You spot them before even entering the café; your sister still hanging on that ridiculous shade of red hair that both of you wore, and Naomi still unnaturally blonde, though her hair keeps getting longer and longer and you’ve never really quite known how to feel about it at any other length thanshort.  
  
Just like you’ve never known how to feel about _them_. Heartfelt declarations at age 17 aside, you had been convinced that their relationship was a passing fad like most of your own at that point had been, but your final year of college had proven remarkably solid. You’d stayed alone, and Emily andNaomi had pulled through it all with barely any damage despite endless opposition from your parents, just like they’d pulled through an almost inevitable separation post-college only to emerge at the end of it with the announcement that they were moving to London together, for their jobs.  
  
And now here they are, age twenty-two, and still so fucking besotted that you can’t help rolling your eyes even while pushing the door open with yourshoulder, tugging your scarf off and sitting down across from them with a sigh. “All right?”  
  
“Hey,” Emily responds, awkwardly as ever, while still gripping Naomi’s hand on the table, who doesn’t bother saying hello but just nods at you, likeyou’re at some sort of bloody interview or something.  
  
“How are things?” you ask after a second and then look around to the menu, because it’s fucking freezing outside and something hot will do wonders for your circulation.  
  
“What are you having?” Naomi asks after a second, and when you settle on a café latte, Naomi gets up without another word to get it. You turn back tolook at Emily again, who looks fidgety and nervous.  
  
“What’s wrong, then?” you ask and Emily finally looks up at you with an incredibly unattractive, nervous expression, before wringing her hands togetherand looking towards Naomi.  
  
“We’re—don’t get upset, please, okay?” Emily starts and you just roll your eyes and tap your fingernails on the table impatiently, before looking outside instead of at your sister. It’s almost surreal sometimes, how quickly you went from doing everything together to being total strangers.  
  
“I can’t promise I won’t get upset when I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about, Emily,” you respond and Emily chuckles for a second.  
  
“Yeah, okay.” You sit silently until Naomi returns with your drink, watch people walk by through the storefront window, soaking wet and looking exactly as pissing miserable as you feel sitting here.  
  
“We’re entering into a partnership,” Naomi finally says, when you don’t bother asking Emily to elaborate, and your immediate reaction is to just whipyour head around and ask what the _fuck_ is wrong with them, but you manage to contain it to something more appropriate instead.  
  
“And I guess I get to tell Mum and Dad? Is that why we’re here today?”  
  
Emily flinches but doesn’t deny it and you shove your drink towards Naomi. “Keep it. I meant it when I said I’m done running interference for you two.”  
  
“Katie, _please_ ,” Naomi says and then wraps an arm around Emily’s shoulder and you pointedly look away; at anything but Emily’s face, because she’snever not known how to manipulate you like this, even though you barely know her and you’re not even sure you _like_ her anymore.  
  
“No, I mean it. Fuck _off_ , Ems,” you snap at her and then pull your scarf back around your neck even as she tears up. “It’s not my fault that I still live in Bristol, that I see them all the time. And you should be bloody grateful for a change, that I volunteered to go into the fucking _family business_ ,” you say, unexpectedly angry with her for a whole set of choices that you were pressured into right after your A-level exams and that you accepted because unlike Emily, you didn’t have anywhere better to go or a real reason to try and escape. "You wouldn't be here right now if I hadn't."  
  
“Katie,” she repeats, this time outright wounded, and you shake your head at her.  
  
“I can’t do this anymore. For fuck’s sake, they _still_ blame me, Emily. I just—can you honestly say this has been worth it?” you ask, ignoring Naomialtogether and just staring at your sister for a few long moments, until she turns to look at Naomi and you’ve got your answer.  
  
You trudge through the rain and try not to cry, because for years now, she’s thought you were homophobic simply because you didn’t manage tochange your parents’ mind about her choices. Just like for years now, they’ve blamed you for the fact that she made them in the first place.  
  
Only on the train back to Bristol do you manage to relax—for that short period of time when you’re neither near Emily, nor near everyone else, anyway. Once you’ve arrived, it immediately feels like you’re choking again, and not just because your father looks at you with an almost hopeful expression,and you snap, “They’re still fucking together, all right?” at him and stalk away from the car, because you don’t want to bloody have dinner with themand James tonight, looking at Emily’s carefully-kept empty seat, like she’s fucking dead or something.  
  
\----  
  
You get over it by the time it’s time for Bodyworks, which is the only class you still teach after you lost your shit with your father completely andinformed him that you had a bloody A-level in accounting and could damn well do some of it for him if you were going to eventually inherit the business. He’d laughed uproariously and you’d almost cried with anger at the time, because _everyone_ thought you were so fucking useless and Emily, pretend-dead or otherwise, would still be the only Fitch to ever go to uni, but a few days later he’d stopped by with a CD-rom and said, “Sort this out, wouldyou, kid?”  
  
It had taken you over three days to figure out just what you were looking at before you concluded it could’ve been done in a far simpler way. You’d told him a few days later, on the rowing machines together, and he’d for once looked at you like you had half a brain, before later kissing you on theforehead, right by your bloody scar.  
  
Bodyworks is ridiculous, in that it’s essentially just step aerobics with a fancy name and some fist-pumps, and you sometimes wish you could just use a recording for the counting off because you lisp on numbers more heavily than on anything else you say, but the class is only thirty minutes longand nobody in it is a complete cunt so there’s worse ways to start your Monday. After that, you shower and head down to the reception to clock yourhours and work the cardio schedule up to date since there’s a note saying that Kevin is ill at home and won’t make it by 3.30 and then look up when someone clears their throat.  
  
“Hi,” you say and then almost laugh because you’re not the actual receptionist but you’re sure there’s some line about getting Fitch or somethingyou’re meant to be saying. “Can I help you?”  
  
The blonde woman leaning against the counter looks almost pathetically disinterested and out of shape but then smiles at you faintly and says, “I threw my back out a few weeks ago and have since been told I ought to work on my muscle definition so it doesn’t happen again.”  
  
“Is this a long-term plan?” you ask, and then rummage around the desk until you find the price list before laying it out on the counter. “We’ve got a year-long subscription, which is the cheapest by far, but if you don’t know if you want to keep coming that long, we’ve also got an option for just a monthly renewable membership.”  
  
“Will my back go out again if I stop?” the woman asks and you smile faintly.  
  
“I’m not a doctor, but, like, two weeks of not exercising already make me feel like I’ve never gone to a gym in my life, so.”  
  
“Year it is,” the woman says after another beat. You hand over a membership application and then lean back again, click through the gym’s email account to find anything that _isn’t_ spam about new fitness equipment, and then take the application form back when she's done.  
  
You then drop it promptly when you scan the personal details.  
  
“Is there a problem?” the woman asks and you just about manage to look back up at her.  
  
“No, this all looks good, sorry—one second,” you say after a beat and then process her payment card information before getting up and walking to theprinter, which is thankfully in a little alcove around the corner, and you lean against it heavily and take a few deep breaths.  
  
It’s not a common name at all.  
  
You don’t want to ask.  
  
“Thanks very much, Mrs. Stonem,” you say instead, before handing over a receipt and scribbling her name on the back of a membership card andhanding it over. “The brochure I just gave you has all our opening hours, but if you need any other information, I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
“You a Fitch, then?” Anthea Stonem asks with another smile and you can’t quite return it.  
  
“One of five,” you respond, as lightheartedly as you can under the circumstances, and she thankfully just leaves with a wink before you can get a chance to ask her anything else, like, do you honestly not know that your daughter hit me in the head with a rock in our first year of sixth form? Andwhere is she now?  
  
Only when you sign out for the day and head up to your parents’ house for dinner do you realize that you really shouldn’t care about the answer to thesecond question, let alone be afraid that the answer is _here_.  
  
\----  
  
You go out for drinks after dinner with some of the other trainers, who are just about the only friends you’ve ever had that you didn’t carefully select after vetting their pros and cons in terms of popularity, but only because you realized that you’re the boss’s daughter and you’d never be popular again,really, in the real world.  
  
Not that you had been your last year of college, either. Emily and Naomi had taken over for you, and you’d done what you could to avoid both them andEffy to the fullest of your ability. Her and Freddie, of course, who still dogged after her like a pathetic puppy and she still looked like she couldn’t evengive a shit about everything she’d taken from you.  
  
You never got an apology; it’s the part that still fucks you up now, pounding back a shot of tequila with Mark and Susan and offering to buy everyone a round because you’d like for them to like you for _you_ , really, rather than for your potential ability to fire them.  
  
“What were you like in college?” you ask after the third round of shots and they both look at you with a bit of surprise.  
  
“I dunno,” Susan says with a slight frown. “Average, I guess. Not clever. Just like everyone else.”  
  
“Yeah, same,” Mark agrees after a second.  
  
You don’t say anything in response, because there’s not much more pathetic than saying that you’d been popular out loud, when it’s four years laterand you’ve not really accomplished any damn thing since then.  
  
You take the bus home a few hours later and spot James in the garden right as you’re about to go upstairs, smoking a spliff by himself, the little fuck.You join him outside and cuff him on the back of the head before taking the spliff from him and taking a deep drag.  
  
“Bitch,” he says and you kick at his leg almost automatically, but then hand the spliff back and lie down next to him.  
  
It’s quiet for a long time, until James finally says, “I miss her, you know?”  
  
“Who,” you respond, even though you know.  
  
“Who else,” he says and then lies down next to you, hands the spliff back to you silently and crosses his arms behind his head. “No one’s called me a perve and kicked the shit out of me in years.”  
  
You smile involuntarily and then have to take a deep breath to not start crying. You inhale sharply, feel the smoke burn your lungs before you slowly exhale again and then turn to look at him. “What’s Roundview like these days, then?”  
  
James shrugs and then faintly smirks; he’s more like you than he’ll ever know, every bit as arrogant a prick as you were at that age. “Fit girls in shortdresses; pointless classes, stupid fucking teachers.”  
  
“Yeah,” you say and close your eyes. “That sounds about right.”  
  
\----  
  
Anthea comes in twice a week—you think of her as Anthea because that way you don’t have to think about who she’s related to—and then signs up for Bodyworks so you see her at least half an hour every week. She doesn’t look anything like Effy, which is good, but once stares at the lady next toher with such a familiar look on her face that you don’t even bother trying to convince yourself that there may be more Stonems in Bristol.  
  
She’s always nice to you, though; familiar, almost, and then comes the day where you roll your eyes at someone asking a truly bloody stupid questionabout hamstring stretches and she stops you after class, smiles before saying, “Excellent eye-roll, Ms. Fitch; you’d give my daughter a run for hermoney.”  
  
“I don’t—” you start saying before you can stop yourself and then feel yourself flush almost instantly before shaking your head. “Sorry; it was rude.”  
  
“There is no rude when it comes to some ridiculous fucking idiots, love,” Anthea tells you before wrapping her towel around her neck and disappearing downstairs.  
  
You take a shower in the staff locker room shortly afterwards and when you blowdry your hair, you part it to the other side and look at the scar on yourtemple.  
  
It feels like a different life, sometimes, but then you feel that way in general; like everything after your first year of sixth form hasn’t been you, and can’treally have happened to you in the first place.  
  
\----  
  
You fuck Mark on Friday night. It’s the first time you’ve had sex in at least 8 months, and the last time it had also been Mark, who truly seemed tounderstand that it didn’t mean anything, that you didn’t want anything more than this.  
  
Afterwards, he makes some tea and you watch a few episodes of _Father Ted_ on _Dave_ until he falls asleep on the sofa next to you. You wrap a blanket around him and head back home, and sit down in your living room and look at pictures of your sister and yourself at ages fourteen through sixteen,before you essentially stopped having a sister.  
  
You finally laugh when you see a picture of that ridiculous leopard-print coat that you used to wear, and then wonder what happened to it, because youhonestly don’t remember.  
  
Until you do. There had been blood on it that you hadn’t been able to wash out.  
  
You don’t think you have any pictures of Effy, but you’re wrong; they’re at the back of your college album, because Effy was about the last person thatyou talked to when things were normal, and you don’t even know what you hate her for more these days—the rock, or the fact that she thought she was too good for you, that she let you believe you were friends when clearly you weren’t.  
  
You didn’t take this picture, but whoever did fucking loved her, because she’s just barely tilting her head towards the camera with a half-smile and she was pretty in a way you never were; effortlessly, like some sort of homage to Kate Moss or heroin chic that you, with your pudgy teenaged face andcrimped hair never could be. If only she could see you now; you can’t remember the last time you bothered straightening your hair, even, because it’s constantly up in a ponytail anyway.  
  
[Every time you dream about Effy Stonem, she’s seventeen with shiny, shot-deer eyes, choking underneath your fingertips. Waking up feels like dying.]  
  
The only comforting thought you have, when you close the album, is that you’re even stronger now than you had been then, and then you drop yourface in your hands because honestly, what are you expecting? One last rumble out by the step machines, where you prove once and for all that—what, exactly?  
  
You go to bed.  
  
\----  
  
You’ve almost forgotten that you don’t know where she is when you finally run into her, as of course you do, because you can’t remember the last time when the universe like, decided to give you a fucking break.  
  
The numbers are giving you a migraine and so you sneak outside for a guilty fag that your dad would lecture you about endlessly, but it’s the only thingyou find you can’t give up, not really, and so you exit out the back and head out onto the parking lot, sit down on the curb by your car and light up almost desperately before closing your eyes and resting your head on your hands.  
  
You don’t know how it’s possible to be this fucking depressed all the time, but it’s not something you’re getting used to. You have nothing to look forward to, not really, even though your coworkers are nice enough and your parents usually leave you well enough alone, Emily-related issues aside, but what the fuck kind of life is that, really?  
  
You finish smoking and then stand up, run your hands through your hair and pin it back up, and that’s when you fucking see her. Leaning against a car, smoking silently, and looking off into the distance.  
  
She’s not changed at fucking all, you think, and can’t help but stare at her. It’s like she can feel you looking, almost, because her head turns slowly inyour direction and then there’s something—a slight reaction, an unexpected one, when she recognizes you.  
  
You stare at each other silently for a long moment—you take in her leather jacket, her bloody _trousers_ , how nothing fucking else looks any different aside from that arrogantly empty look on her face, and then she smiles faintly and you almost think you might throw up.  
  
You head back inside and clock out; go home and take a bath and try to stop shaking, and you don’t even understand why, because you spent an entire fucking year avoiding her after she hit you in the head with a rock and you have no reason to still be afraid of her, of what she can do to you.  
  
She _can’t_ do anything to you now, you tell yourself, and then wash your hair.

 

\----  
  
You don’t go out to smoke again when you know Anthea’s around, who’s regular as clockwork so it’s not all that fucking hard.  
  
Turns out, you don’t have to.  
  
“Nice shirt,” Effy says, and then leans against the counter. Your heart almost stops altogether before you do what you can to not visibly flip out.  
  
“What the fuck—“ you start saying and then don’t know how to finish it.  
  
Effy turns to look at you slowly and God, her fucking eyes just—you suddenly feel like you’re seventeen again, at a party in the woods, getting incredibly angry with someone who wasn’t even _doing_ anything deliberately. She made you feel guilty for an entire year afterwards, and you still feel guilty now, apparently.  
  
“My mum thinks you’re lovely,” Effy says with a small smile after a long moment. “Calls you Katherine, though. Is that what you’re calling yourself now, Katie?”  
  
“Fuck you,” you mumble back at her and then look back at your computer because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing, you’re not participating in it.  
  
Effy stays silent for a while then and you almost manage to pretend she’s not even there when she clears her throat. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it.”  
  
You stare at her pointedly. “Has it?”  
  
She doesn’t react to that. “Where’s your sister, then.”  
  
“The fuck should I know? She lives in London.”  
  
Effy looks at you for another long moment and then produces a pack of fags out of nowhere. “Can you leave your desk for a moment?”  
  
You can’t, not really, nor do you want to. So you have no idea why you say yes.  
  
\----  
  
She hands you a lit fag once you join her outside and then leans back against the wall, closes her eyes. “Sorry about the nine stitches,” she says andyou laugh because it’s so unexpected.  
  
“That’s the best you could come up with?”  
  
“It’s the point, isn’t it?” Effy asks after a moment and looks at you with something approximating surprise, before she shoves her hands in her pockets, and you pass back the cigarette without thinking, like you’re sixteen again and she’s your friend.  
  
“You’ve had five fucking years, and the best you’ve got is sorry,” you repeat, almost disbelievingly, and she looks at you with a shrug. “You ruined myfucking life, Effy. What the fuck am I going to do with sorry?”  
  
Effy hands back the fag silently and then exhales slowly. “Your life seems fine…”  
  
“Oh, you have no fucking idea,” you say without thinking and then shake your head. “God’s sake, what do you even want from me?”  
  
“Nothing,” Effy says after a moment and then lights her own cigarette, like you’ve rejected every part of her out of nowhere.  
  
“Yeah, well,” you say and then rub at the scar, and she watches you do it with an almost pained look on her face, which means more than the fuckingapology that wasn’t.  
  
“We were just kids, Katie,” Effy finally says. “Incredibly fucked up kids.”  
  
“Right. And now we’re strangers,” you respond, and throw your fag away before going back inside. She doesn’t follow you.  
  
\----  
  
You don’t exactly go looking for her, but know she’s probably outside since Anthea mentioned getting a lift at reception when she came in in the morning and whatever. What _fucking_ ever. You probably just go outside for a fag, but then you see her, sleeping in the fucking car, and something inside of you just can’t stand it, how she’s _still_ got one up on you after all these years.  
  
“That was a bullshit apology,” you tell her, after you’ve knocked on the car window and woken her up. She blinks at you a little bit confused and then sits up, runs a hand through her hair.  
  
“I meant it. It was a fucking accident, Katie.”  
  
“What, so you _didn’t_ mean to hit me with a rock?” you spit at her, and watch as she opens up the car door, steps outside.  
  
“No. I meant to hit you with a rock,” she says, and then makes a face. “Insofar as I was planning on doing anything, what with the fact that you were strangling me, spitting in my face, and I was out of my fucking mind.”  
  
You flinch because all of that is true, of course, and nobody but her knows it so nobody’s said a damn thing to you about it in years.  
  
“What I _didn’t_ mean to do was almost fucking kill you. Obviously,” Effy says, so steadily that it’s almost like you’re talking about the bloody weather, and you don’t even really know why you feel like you’re going to cry again.  
  
“Yeah, just like I imagine you just tripped and landed on Freddie’s cock afterwards, right Ef?”  
  
She smiles at you, a little meanly. “Still the same vicious, petty girl you were in college, aren’t you.”  
  
You do slap her then, even though all it does is confirm what she thinks of you, and she reaches up to her cheek with the same aborted little smile. “Does that make it better, then?”  
  
“Just tell me he was worth it,” you finally say, and she looks up at you with surprise. “Tell me you, like, were madly in love, that you’re still together.That he was fucking _worth_ it, Effy.”  
  
“I can’t,” she says, and that’s when you do start crying.  
  
\----  
  
She somehow maneuvers you into the car next to her, in the passenger’s seat, and lets you cry silently until you figure out some way to stop hiccupping like a bloody retard, and then just hands you a lit fag without further prompting and looks out the window on her side, giving you whatever time and space you need to compose yourself.  
  
“You’re the first person I’ve seen,” she finally says, not turning to look at you. “From college, since college, I mean. There’s something ironic aboutthat, isn’t there.”  
  
There is, but you don’t want to agree with her on much of anything. “Yeah, well, thanks. For pointing out that I’m the only person pathetic enough tostill be in Bristol.”  
  
It’s not even true, that; Cook is still around—you saw him using the slots at a pub a few months ago and immediately walked as far in the other direction as you could, because what had been repulsive at age seventeen hadn’t improved in the slightest with the passage of time—but it feels trueall the same.  
  
Effy’s lips quirk at that briefly and then she sighs. “Katie.”  
  
“What,” you tell her, and stub the cigarette out in the ashtray before realizing it’s full, and so you just toss it out the window instead.  
  
She turns to look at you more fully and says nothing for a long moment and you try not to fidget under her stare, but she’s frightened you; always has, ever since you realized she wasn’t your friend but just enjoyed silently mocking you, really. “Are you still trying as hard as you were then?”  
  
You have no real idea how to respond to that and the surprise must show on your face because she looks away again after a moment. “Good. Neither am I.”  
  
It’s the first time Effy’s actually ever acknowledged that she wasn’t—but then she was never the one to think she was fucking perfect, anyway. Thatwas a role you assigned to her, you suddenly realize, and you turn to look at her, this girl you fucking idolized for an entire year before she proved tobe so much more fucked up than you knew how to deal with, and it’s like you’ve never actually seen her before.  
  
“The scar’s grown on me,” you say after a long moment and Effy almost like, winces or something in response. “Nobody fucking confuses me for Emily anymore.”  
  
“Because of the scar,” Effy responds somewhat blandly and you can’t help a pained laugh from coming out.  
  
“Yeah, well.”  
  
“Glad I could help,” Effy murmurs after a moment and you snort laughter before flipping her off.  
  
You don’t want to ask things like what happened to Freddie, and what have you been doing all these years, because just being here—like this, sittingaround smoking with Effy is the most you’ve felt like you’re the _good_ Katie again in like, fucking years. “All that’s missing is the vodka,” you say after a few seconds and when Effy lips quirk up you smile as well.  
  
You don’t know for sure, but you suspect you weren’t the only one to forcefully start over in your second year of sixth form, and when Effy turns to look at you and says, “We could remedy that. At some time when it’s not eleven in the bloody morning”, you feel a faint pulse in your temple that seems tobe warning your off, but you've always been the dumber twin, the one who doesn’t figure things out until it’s way too late, and maybe for once that’s proving to be a good thing.  
  
You give her your phone number after just a second of hesitation, scribble it down on a receipt from _La Senza_ that you find at the bottom of your purse, and she takes it after the same amount of pause, before looking at you right as you’re opening the passenger door and putting a hand on your arm. “Hey.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Not being confused with Emily anymore—it looks good on you,” she says, almost earnestly, and it’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said toyou so of course you respond in the most twat-like way that you can, by scoffing at her and saying, “A fan of your own work, then?” and she drops her hand without saying anything else.  
  
You almost apologize, but in the past five minutes you've been seventeen again, and you never would’ve back then, so you can’t bring yourself to do it now.  
  
\----  
  
"And how was your day, sweetheart?" your mum asks at dinner.  
  
You shrug. "Same as always."  
  
"Who was that lass you were talking to in the parking lot?" your dad suddenly asks and you feel your face get red without warning.  
  
"Daughter of one of the regulars. She was, um, asking about subscription prices."  
  
Your dad nods, because it's beyond him that someone wouldn't want to come to the gym, and then grins. "Waif like that, could do with some muscle definition."  
  
Brilliant, you think, because if she'd been any stronger she would've actually killed you that night. Laughter bubbles up inside of you unexpectedly, more of it at the idea of Effy like, doing reps on a bench press, and you have to excuse yourself to not just lose it completely at the table.  
  
\----  
  
She calls after a week, almost when you don't expect her to anymore, and says, "Let's be adults. We can go out for a bottle of wine and tapas."  
  
"What the fuck?" you respond and hear her muted laughter in response.  
  
"I wasn't entirely kidding, unless you'd prefer to get lashed with a premixed bottle of Red Bull and vodka on a park bench."  
  
"Are we fucking homeless now?" you say after a beat and then frown. "Fine. But if you order anything with _mackerel_ in it, I am stabbing you with a fork."  
  
"I'm sure we can figure out a way to share, Katie," Effy says before hanging up and you look at your phone almost in a daze, because isn't that the biggest fucking lie she's ever told.  
  
\----  
  
She's waiting for you outside, leaning against the brick walls but not smoking for a change, just looking kind of distantly removed from the entire world like she always does, and you stand in front of her awkwardly before saying, "All right?" like this is something you do all the time.  
  
She doesn't respond but you move towards the door in tandem, and as she holds it open for you with a small smirk you roll your eyes at her, but step inside gamely anyway.  
  
One of the waiters spots you both and greets her with an _Isabel_ that is so familiar that you blink at Effy in surprise, not just because that has got to be the most ridiculous thing anyone's ever called her, but because she steps up on her toes and kisses him on both cheeks before murmuring off some sort of bloody response in like, fucking fluent Spanish or something.  
  
"Flies, Katie," Effy says after a moment, after he's steered you to a table and you've sat down dumbly and just can't help staring at her. You close your mouth abruptly and then frown at her.  
  
"Is that where you've been all this time?"  
  
Effy nods and then reaches for the menu, scans through it rather quickly and grins up at you after a second. "No mackerel, right?"  
  
"Right," you say and sit back silently as she orders for you both, because, well, fucking hell, you wouldn't know where to start on offering your own opinion at this point. " _Isabel?_ What the fuck was that?"  
  
"Elizabeth in Spanish; they can't say Effy. Rioja all right with you?" she then asks and you shrug.  
  
"Yeah, sure. Will it get me drunk?"  
  
"Rather quickly, I daresay," Effy responds in a completely seriously tone of voice and you bite your lip not to smile.  
  
You sit mutely while she orders and wait for her to say something because she's _completely_ thrown you off, almost without trying.  
  
"I lived in Valencia for two years, and then in Barcelona for another two," she says after a beat and you nod.  
  
"Sounds--well, how are you still so bloody pale?" you respond, because it's the first thing that comes to mind.  
  
She shrugs and takes her napkin, spreads it on her lap. "English genes, factor 50."  
  
You feel so insignificant after just two sentences that you don't know what else to say. Part of you is incredibly curious, but then the rest of you is justso jealous--it's bloody Spain, which isn't exactly fucking _exotic_ but compared to Bristol it's like she's gone on like, a fucking Antarctic safari for a decade or something--that you can't bring yourself to do it.  
  
She seems to pick up on that easily enough because she sits back in her chair and then tilts her head at you. "I'm not particularly adept at small talk."  
  
It's like she expects you to not have changed at all. "I work at my parents' gym, I live three blocks away from them, and this is the first time I've goneout for a drink with someone who isn't a co-worker in like, three bloody years. I think that about covers chit-chat, don't you?"  
  
She smiles after a second. "Covers everything except the questions that we actually want to ask each other."  
  
"Not drunk enough for those," you concede and then thankfully, your wine shows up. You drink the first glass almost ridiculously quickly, in like two big gulps, but feel better immediately so whatever, that fucking look on Effy's face can just stay there for all you care.  
  
"Are they still together?" Effy asks after the bread's been delivered and you're nervously breaking it into smaller pieces. You look up at her sharply and then sigh.  
  
"Always fucking watching, weren't you," you mutter and then shake your head. "Yeah, they are."  
  
"Impressive," Effy says after a moment and you nod silently because you know what she means; it hadn't exactly been a secret that your parents wanted the relationship to end, and Effy and Naomi had been friends, sort of.  
  
"Didn't you hear this from Naomi?" you ask then, because yeah, they had been friends.  
  
Effy purses her lips but doesn't react otherwise. "I'm quite shit at writing letters. Apparently, so is she."  
  
"They're getting married," you say after a moment and then pick up and crunch a piece of bread, chase it with another sip of wine. "Or like, partnered, or whatever."  
  
"Makes sense," Effy responds and you stare at her, angry out of nowhere.  
  
"Does it now?"  
  
"Naomi's the only family she's got left," Effy observes and then pops an olive into her mouth, like she didn't just stab you in the chest, but her expression softens considerably and your urge to hit her fades almost instantly when she continues, "I don't blame her, really. Losing your family ishard."  
  
"The fuck would you know? Your mum's a legend," you say in response and Effy almost smiles.  
  
"Sure. She is now. After a year of rehab and two years of forgetting she had a daughter."  
  
There are wide open spaces that you can fill with the things you don't know about her. "So why are you back, then?"  
  
Effy shrugs. "It was time. And then her back went out, and I had nowhere else to be anyway."  
  
You eat almost silently but it's not at all strange, really, because Effy's never been a big talker and you've not forgotten what it was like, to babble constantly around her just because her silent staring made you self-conscious on some level. You don't feel the need to babble anymore, and she looks at you almost approvingly partway through the dinner, which makes you want to roll your eyes and snap at her that you _have_ grown up some, thanks, but it's not really worth it when you're having an otherwise pleasant evening.  
  
"I can't believe," Effy says, wiping off her lips with her napkin before balling it up and depositing it on her plate, "that we fought as much as we did about Freddie McLair."  
  
It's so to the point that you almost fumble and drop your knife, but then just put it down with a shaky hand and stare at her. "You don't _still_ think that it was actually about Freddie, do you?"  
  
Effy looks back for a long moment and then lowers her eyes. "I didn't want to take anything away from you, Katie. I never cared for being popular."  
  
"I know. Why do you think I hated you so much?" you respond, softly, and then blink at yourself because you didn't intend to use the past tense, butit's what came out.  
  
She smiles after a moment and then sighs. "The biggest laugh here, I think, is that you and him worked better together than he and I ever did." You roll your eyes and she presses on, gently. "He was so normal that all the time I spent with him just made me more fucked up."  
  
"I wish you would've told me," you say after a moment and she blinks. "Not about Freddie. About whatever was going on with you."  
  
She doesn't say anything to that, at all, and then calls for the bill after another second while you finish off the rest of your glass of wine. Outside, yousmoke while leaning against the wall together, and she laughs out of nowhere.  
  
"What," you ask, but your head's a bit fuzzy and you feel pretty good, all things considered, so it's with a smile.  
  
"I just remembered--you called him Juicy, didn't you," Effy says, and then looks at you before laughing again.  
  
"Oh, Christ," you say with an eyeroll, but then also laugh. "Don't fucking remind me."  
  
You stub out your cigarette with your toe, and watch as she flicks hers further down the street, magically into a drain without even trying. "Another?" she asks, then, miming for a drink, and you snort.  
  
" I'm about one degree from being totally pissed already." She looks at you in surprise and you shrug. "I work in a gym. I live three streets away from my parents. All of my coworkers are health freaks. And I'm not quite pathetic enough to drink regularly on my own."  
  
"I'll make sure you get home all right," she says after a moment's consideration, then tilts her head towards the end of the street. "Come on. For old times' sake, yeah?"  
  
You follow her. You always did.  
  
\----  
  
You wake up feeling like absolute shit; don't need to look in the mirror to know that you didn't bother taking off make-up or like, even changing out ofyour clothes, apparently, because you're on top of the covers in your skirt and jacket.  
  
"There's some water on the nightstand," you hear behind you and jerk up abruptly, wincing when it feels like something's piercing your skull.  
  
"What the _fuck_ ," you mumble and then roll over onto your back, grapple for the glass of water and take a careful sip because you now feel like you'regoing to throw up. Only then do you realize that someone just _spoke_ and sit up.  
  
Effy's sat on your dresser, legs dangling, eating a banana that she holds up for your, well, whatever. "Sorry. Got hungry; it's all I saw out."  
  
"Why are you--" you start asking and then flinch, close your eyes. "What the bloody fuck _happened_ last night?"  
  
"Well," Effy says, slowly, and then it's silent for a bit as she chews. "You, as it turns out, weren't lying about being a total lightweight these days, and I made the rather idiotic mistake of making fun of you for it, at which point--"  
  
"Yes, nevermind," you say with a sigh and throw your arm over your eyes before flopping back down. "Have you just been--you scared the shit out ofyou me, you freak."  
  
It's silent for a bit until you hear Effy move, landing softly off the dresser, and then sit down on the foot of the bed. "I figured that if I didn't kill you with a rock, alcohol poisoning would be a rather pathetic alternative."  
  
You snort. "It's still not funny, you know."  
  
"Of _course_ it's not funny," Effy says, rather forcefully, and then gets up again. "I'll head home now. You'll be all right, yeah?"  
  
"The fuck time is it?" you ask.  
  
"Five or so," she says after a second and you roll over onto your side.  
  
"Fuck going home. Just sleep here."  
  
She hesitates for a long moment but then settles on the bed next to you, mattress dipping slightly until you roll backwards just a bit, and only then doyou realize that you're in bed with like, someone you hate. Hated. Someone you're deeply afraid of. You turn to look at her, squinting, and she looks back at you.  
  
"I'm sorry," she says again.  
  
This time you believe her.  
  
\----  
  
You wake up before she does, probably because you got a fair bit of sleep already from whenever she dragged you home and you woke up that first time, and set about making breakfast. You normally don't bother with more than just cereal but you remember enough about being a teenager to just head straight towards the few incredibly fatty things you can conjure up in your kitchen because your stomach feels like it'll revolt at anything less.  
  
You've almost finished mixing the batter when Effy shows up behind you and rubs at her eyes.  
  
"Look at you, you fucking legend," you say without turning around because apparently you're not the _only_ one who isn't seventeen anymore. Effy snortsand sits down at the kitchen table without saying anything, and then quietly asks if you have any juice or milk or anything.  
  
You gesture at the fridge without turning around and the room stays almost eerily silent the entire time you make breakfast, but thank fucking Godbecause your skull still feels like it's going to expel whatever's in it at any moment, even with the additional sleep and the water you drank earlier.  
  
"No syrup?" Effy asks when the pancakes appear and you purse your lips at her.  
  
"Always this grateful for a free breakfast?"  
  
She raises her eyebrow for a millisecond but then takes a pancake without further comment and you pour yourself a glass of juice before sitting downand eating as well. And then laugh.  
  
"What," she asks, wincing at how loud it is, randomly, and you try to stop as quickly as you can.  
  
"Just thinking; most I've done for anyone spending the night in like, fucking, _ever_."  
  
Effy sniffs at that and then slowly finishes eating just one pancake before sitting back and sipping at her juice. "I'm Katie, and I've not had a boyfriend since I was seventeen?"  
  
"Something like that, yeah," you say, because there's no real point in getting angry about it; it's mostly been by choice, or lack thereof, rather, andyour life's been complicated enough with Emily being judged for who she's seeing. You have had absolutely no desire to deal with similar shit for yourself.  
  
You don't ask if it's true for her, and that leads back to Freddie, and you're sober now; skull throbbing, it's all a bit too similar to years ago and well, Effy doesn't talk, so there's probably no point in bringing up something that will kill the mood that quickly right now. Though you're obviously dying tohear what happened, on some level. If she broke the cheating git's heart, like he deserved.  
  
"Where are you living, then?" you finally ask and she sighs.  
  
"With my mum."  
  
"That shit, then?" you ask and when Effy just continues eating, you decide to drop it, until she looks back up at you and says, "Just because _she's_ over it doesn't mean I am."  
  
It's not about Emily, really, but it could be, and you just look back down at your plate because if you were to have anything in common with Effy, this isn't what you'd pick. It's not something you should still be dealing with when you're this like, old, or whatever. But you are.  
  
"When my Mum finally figured it out, about Naomi, I mean," you say, and then stop in surprise because you didn't know you were going to talk about it, but when Effy just looks at you placidly you take a deep breath and say it out loud, for the first time ever. "She told me to end it. To figure out some way to end it, because Emily looked up to me, and always followed my lead, like I had her on a fucking leash or something."  
  
"And did you? Try to end it?" Effy asks after a long moment.  
  
"I don't honestly know," you respond and then get up to put your plate in the sink because you just need a moment. "Sometimes, I think. But never really."  
  
"I don't think anyone, Naomi included, ever doubted that you cared about Emily," Effy says softly. "Care, I mean."  
  
"Yeah," you agree, and wash your hands, squeeze your eyes shut. "Everyone but Emily."  
  
The only sound in the room is the scrape of Effy's knife and fork against the plate, until that stops, too, and Effy pushes her chair back and brings her plate over, puts it into the sink next to yours. "If that's true, then I've been wrong for a long time."  
  
"About what," you ask, as steadily as you can.  
  
"About which one of you is smarter."  
  
You swallow hard and then turn off the taps and take an unsteady step backwards. "Do you have any fags left?"  
  
Effy nods.  
  
"Good," you say, and when Effy returns with them you both step outside, sit on your front step with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, wincing against thesun.  
  
\----  
  
Effy leaves after taking a quick shower and you spend the rest of the morning lying on the sofa in a heap, watching reruns of _Gossip Girl_ on T4 andhalfheartedly eating a bowl of cereal. You fall asleep again within an hour and the next time you wake up, you're lying in the dark and there's a sudden flash of lightning outside that scares the shit out of you.  
  
You still don't handle the dark well. Not even after all these years, and somewhere between the time you manage to reach for the light switch on thewall and the light actually blinks on you find yourself midway in a panic attack, and then can't stop thinking that Effy was in your room last night, in youfucking _bedroom_ , and you were so goddamned stupid that she could've done whatever she fucking wanted to you.  
  
It takes you at least twenty minutes before you've calmed down enough to realize that nothing she ever did was premeditated, but it still means thatyou can't ever do this again, go out drinking with her like nothing happened, even if you want to know about Freddie, and maybe about Spain, and evenif you think that Effy is the only person you know who is as unhappy as you are. All of those things can't possibly compare when you reach up with a shaky hand to brush your fringe away, and all you can feel is how she changed you forever.  
  
\----  
  
James stops by later that day with some spliff and you smoke together on the sofa while watching _Dumb & Dumber_, even though it's from way before his time and you never found it funny in the first place.  
  
"You look like shit," he finally tells you when you're both baked and you snort.  
  
"I had a rough night last night."  
  
James doesn't say anything for long moments but then pats you on the thigh. "Good. I was beginning to think you'd never go back to your old self again." You look at him in surprise and he shrugs with a grin. "Emily used to tell me that you were likely to get arrested, back when you were incollege. She'd never explain why but over the years I've put a few things together. You were rather mental back then, weren't you."  
  
"That's one way of putting it," you say and then laugh almost involuntarily, thinking about Cook's birthday party and how you'd snorted coke with Effy inthe bathroom at some gangster's party, before going to Danny's later that evening and fucking him almost through the mattress. Things had changed so much.  
  
"I don't care that she's a dyke, you know," James says and then looks down at his own hands for a moment before sitting up and getting his fags out. "I mean, I don't get it, but whatever."  
  
"You used to be obsessed with it," you say with a slight smile. "Her box of fannies. Do you remember that shit?"  
  
James flushes a bit and says, "Well, yeah, I like naked _girls_ , Christ. But I don't know. I can't help but think that if Emily weren't with--"  
  
"I know, James," you interject tiredly and then silently hold out your hand for a fag. "You shouldn't think of it that way. She's still your sister."  
  
"I'm not the one who's forgotten that," he says after a moment and then hands you his lighter as well.  
  
You almost defend her, but you really just can't, because she gave up on all of you first.  
  
\----  
  
Effy calls a few days later. It's a simple message--"I had fun, until I had to carry you home"--but you can't bring yourself to return her call, because thething that horrifies you most of all is that you had fun, too.  
  
\----  
  
You run into Anthea on your way to the loo at the gym one day and she stops you, says, "I didn't realize you knew Effy or I would've said she was back sooner."  
  
"We weren't really close or anything," you say after a beat and then sigh. "Sorry, that was a twat thing to say."  
  
"She said you were one of her best friends," Anthea says after a small pause and then smiles. "Well, nevermind. I guess it's just a small fucking world, eh?"  
  
"Yeah," you agree and then stare at your phone and the other four messages you haven't returned yet either.  
  
\----  
  
"It's not normal," you say when she picks up and you hear her exhale slowly.  
  
"What isn't?"  
  
"Us. Hanging out like we're friends or something. You almost fucking _killed_ me, Effy. How can we ever just--"  
  
"The reason you're so miserable," Effy interjects, slowly, and you shut up almost instinctively because Effy doesn't talk unless she's got something important to say. Never has. "It's because you don't know how to let it go. Let it _go_ , Katie."  
  
"Have you?" you ask her after a moment. She doesn't say anything, just hangs up.  
  
\----  
  
The next day, there's a bottle of wine outside of your house.  
  
 _I'm working on it_ the attached note says.  
  
You sigh and take it inside, put it on the kitchen table and stare at it for a long time.  
  
\----  
  
On the third attempt, you actually do press the _call_ button, and she picks up after just two rings.  
  
"I'm not bloody drinking this all by myself; I've got work tomorrow," you say, somewhat annoyed with yourself, _really_ annoyed with her, and then just annoyed with everything when she laughs low before saying, "All right."  
  
\----  
  
"You told your mother I was one of your best friends," you say when you open the door, and she shrugs her shoulders before agreeing that she did. "You despised me. I mean, maybe that's too strong a word, but you thought I was ridiculous, a total idiot."  
  
"Unlike Panda, of course--one of the greatest minds of her generation," Effy replies mildly, and then looks away. "Of course I thought you were an idiot.You were _also_ one of my best friends."  
  
"Good, well, you were one of mine, okay?" you say after a few beats and she nods, then shivers before you open the door all the way and let her in.  
  
You don't talk much while you drink the wine, but then run out of wine and James didn't leave any spliff behind so you're stuck inside together, relatively sober for probably the first time ever outside of college itself.  
  
"I broke up with Freddie," Effy says after a few seconds of tapping her nails against your kitchen table. "Months before college ended, actually."  
  
"Really," you say flatly because it's patently untrue; they were together until your last exam, really, always walking around together and--whatever, it's not like you were watching, you just knew.  
  
"Mm," Effy says and then lights a cigarette, taps some ash away before looking at you with a faint frown. "He wanted to go to uni together. I told him Ididn't want to go to uni. He said he wouldn't go if I didn't. I laughed in his face."  
  
"I don't blame you," you say, and then picture it--Freddie with his fucking hangdog expression, so miserably obsessed with Effy--and laughter bubblesup unexpectedly.  
  
"Yeah. So then he asked me why I didn't care about what happened after college, and I didn't have an answer, really, except that I didn't."  
  
"Right," you say and watch as Effy smiles faintly.  
  
"So he told me that if I cared that little there was no point in being together, and after a few seconds of thinking about it I realized he was right."  
  
"So what, then? You stayed friends?" It's utterly implausible given how lovesick Freddie had been, but she nods after a moment.  
  
You almost laugh; a small noise escapes you anyway.  
  
"What other choice did we have?" Effy says with a sharp look in your direction. "It's not like either of us had anyone else left after we chose each other."  
  
You don't have anything to say to that.  
  
Effy sighs a few moments later and then runs a hand through her hair. "He was a good friend, in any event. When things really--well. He was a good friend."  
  
"So no regrets, then," you mumble softly and she shakes her head.  
  
"I don't think about regrets. I wouldn't know where to start, honestly."  
  
You don't get drunk that night, and you don't talk anymore either. You turn on the telly and put on _Top Gear_ instead, which Effy sits back to watch without comment. After the first break, you look over and see she's fallen asleep, neck at an awkward angle, legs curled up underneath her on yoursofa. You contemplate waking her up, but finally just end up turning the telly off and covering her with a blanket before lying down in bed and readingthe latest issue of _Elle_ with the occasional glance back to the living room.  
  
\----  
  
The next morning, you shake her awake by grabbing her by the shoulder.  
  
She jerks up and claws at your hand almost immediately before shooting back as far as she can on your sofa and staring at you with wide eyes.  
  
You take a step back and then just stare at her helplessly as she takes a few deep, shuddering breaths before going, "I'm okay, I'm okay."  
  
You don't want to ask what that was, and all she says is, "Next time just yell or something, please", so fucking politely withdrawn that you are suddenly convinced that you _know_ what that was, and you get so close to throwing up out of nowhere that you almost swoon with the effort to stay upright, to keep it all in.  
  
Effy just asks for coffee and her hand's still shaking when she drinks it. She goes home shortly thereafter; you take an incredibly long, hot shower, andthen slump against the shower wall in the middle of it, until you're down on the floor, crying your eyes out.  
  
\----  
  
You avoid your parents, dinner at their house, don't call James for a few days either and compulsively clean your apartment, like a spring cleaning thatis several years overdue.  
  
It doesn't help.  
  
So you call her.  
  
\----  
  
She's leaning in the doorway having a fag, blowing smoke outside while you're pouring two glasses of wine, and she's smiling at you softly when youfinally join her.  
  
"A real sign of aging," she says, gesturing at the glass, and you roll your eyes.  
  
"Whatever. We can chug from the bottle if it'll make you feel better."  
  
She takes the glass without comment and you watch her smoke silently, until she raises an eyebrow at you. "What's on your mind, Katie?"  
  
"Nothing," you say shortly and then sit down on the front steps, wait for her to join you after a minute, and the sun is setting slowly. "How's your work, then?"  
  
"Translation's a real rush," she says dryly and then takes a slow, long sip of wine.  
  
"Yeah, just like bookkeeping, I imagine," you respond and then fall into something that is almost a comfortable silence until you of course fuck it up. "Ef, babes ... what the fuck happened the last time you were here?"  
  
She stiffens almost imperceptibly and then relaxes slowly, inch at a time. "I don't do well with being touched when I'm asleep."  
  
"So it wasn't because of--" you start to say and she looks at you in surprise before biting her lip and looking off into the distance.  
  
"Never thought about that, really," she says softly and then reaches out to cover your hand, squeezes your fingers tightly. "No. I wasn't asleep then, was I."  
  
You almost manage to say you're sorry, but instead just swallow hard and finish the rest of your wine.  
  
"I dream about it, sometimes," Effy says after a long moment, without moving her head one way or the other, just like she's casually musing over something with a drink. "Do you?"  
  
"Yeah," you say, softly, and watch the sun disappear.  
  
When it's dark, you both move inside and Effy fumbles for the light switch almost immediately, just barely beating you to it.  
  
\----  
  
You drink together--sometimes out on the town, sometimes in your apartment--every Thursday for almost two months after that.  
  
The third time, you ask Effy about Spain, and watch as she visibly relaxes, gets _happy_ almost. You're so jealous of her, of her better years of her better life, that you almost get nauseous, until you ask why Spain, why she left England, and her face shutters closed so abruptly that you remind yourselfthat you know nothing. _Nothing_.  
  
It turns out to be okay when the next time she shows up with a sloppy stack of pictures, tied together with a rubber band, and shows you things she saw over those four years, without making you feel like a fucking saddo for not having anything to show for those years yourself. Instead, you find yourself saying, "I'd like to go, someday, you know. Like, Spain, or Italy or Greece or something. Whatever" and Effy just smiles faintly and tells youthat you should.  
  
[You won't. But it's a nice thought.]  
  
The fifth time, you go out to the cinema together, for the latest Daniel Craig film, and when you suggest it she grins. "Taste in men not changed much, then?" She knew more than you ever thought she did, and conversely, you realize you don't know anything about her. When the movie finishes andyou're sucking the last bit of Diet Coke up through a straw, that thought makes you frown, and you reach for her arm. "What do you like?"  
  
She doesn't respond immediately, finally just goes, "What?"  
  
"Films. What kinds of films do you like?"  
  
The sixth time, you sit through some Spanish-spoken, subtitled movie that is so like, _deep_ or whatever, that you don't even really know what to say to Effy except, "He was fit. That guy. Gail whatever."  
  
 _"Gael_ ," she corrects with a laugh, and then looks at you curiously. "Did you like it, then?"  
  
"You're incredibly fucked up, aren't you," you say in response and she smiles faintly.  
  
"Why, because I like movies with a plot?"  
  
"Where the _fuck_ was there a plot in that?" you say and then scoff at her. "Whatever. I've got an A-level in Media Studies, you don't know what you'reon about."  
  
"Of course, Katie," Effy says, very seriously, until you both start laughing.  
  
She goes home at the end of the evening and you watch her go from the kitchen window, before you roll your eyes at how she still just sort of _saunters_ and you still think it's the fucking coolest thing _ever_.  
  
The seventh time you go out dancing together, and it's rather awkward, very awkward indeed when you run into Cook unexpectedly, who seems to recognize you first and Effy second, and it makes sense; she carries herself a little differently now, has become a little more open, but it doesn't matter one bit when Cook's face almost crumples when he recognizes her. He's gone minutes later and you can't help but sigh because truly, _nobody_ seems to have actually moved on at all.  
  
She didn't see him. You don't tell her. You don't even really know why.  
  
Maybe that _is_ moving on, you think later on the way home, when she's fallen asleep on your shoulder after mumbling, "Sorry, too much beer, not enough liquor" and you call out her name five times when you're in front of her house before she wakes up.  
  
"Sorry," she says again, looking at your face, and then reaches up to your temple unthinkingly, presses her fingers against it. You both freeze when she blinks fully awake, when she realizes what she's doing, and she pulls her hand back like it's burned.  
  
"Stop apologizing," you say after a few horrible seconds, and she bites her lip, hands you five quid for the cab and then backs out of it. You don't watch her go inside; just touch your own scar, and only when you feel it do you realize you were checking to see it was still there.  
  
The eighth time, she calls beforehand and says, "I'm up against a deadline and I've got about an hour left, do you mind if I finish it at yours?". You pour her a glass of wine and pull your kitchen table closer to a socket before she shows up, and then watch as she plugs in her laptop and starts workingon something. After about ten minutes, you sigh and get out your own work, and look up after a few minutes when you can tell she's staring at you.  
  
"What," you say, still faintly clicking through Excel before focusing on her face.  
  
"Just never thought I'd see you in glasses, is all," Effy says, already having turned back to her computer.  
  
"Yeah, well, I don't fucking like touching my own eyeballs," you respond crankily after a few seconds and then have to fight the urge to take them off and just squint at your laptop the rest of the evening instead.  
  
"They look good on you," Effy says plainly after another moment.  
  
"Oh. Right, well, duh. 'course they do," you manage after a moment and roll your eyes when she snorts.  
  
Only when she moves to sit down next to you do you see the other side of her face. "Finally piss off the wrong person, then?" you say, unthinkingly, and then watch as she turns to you with an incredibly dark expression before reaching up to her own cheek.  
  
"Not like it's the first time, right Katie?" she responds flatly and you suddenly feel your gut drop.  
  
"Hey..." you force yourself to say, softly, because you know you started it and you would like to stop it, for once, without it getting much worse. "Really, what happened?"  
  
"Nothing," she says, and then pours herself the remainder of the wine before turning her head away again. "Turn on the telly or something, would you?"  
  
An hour later, when you finally think your chest is going to explode with embarrassment, she finally turns back to look at you and sighs. "Can I stay here tonight?"  
  
You don't want to know. You honestly don't want to know, you suddenly realize, because it's distressing enough that you _care_ and you don't want to care more. "Yeah, of course."  
  
She curls into a ball at the edge of your bed after five minutes of mild bickering about whether or not the sofa would do, and you don't sleep for more than five minutes, because every time the streetlight outside of your house flickers, it makes the handprint on her cheek stand out a little bit more.  
  
\----  
  
The next weekend, you tell your dad that you think Bodyworks is retarded and would rather just teach Tai-Bo or something, and he just pats you onthe back and reworks the schedule without question, because sometimes he's a pretty good guy to have on your side. You avoid the front desk at all times when you suspect Anthea might be around, and since she's incredibly regular--and that makes sense, you saw this Channel 4 documentary once about recovering addicts who all made do with a very strict routine--it works out. Every day where you don't see her you sigh in relief, because as great as your dad sometimes is, he probably wouldn't understand you cussing out a client for no sensible work-related reason.  
  
The fact that you can't means you don't have an out, and things just keep rummaging around your head; the handprint, how Effy didn't even seem allthat _fazed_ by it... you can't stop thinking about any of it.  
  
You wish you could talk to anyone but her about that night. You can't. Emily, maybe, in a different lifetime, but instead all you've got is stark relief when Effy's covered it with make-up the next time you see her, and from the somewhat dark, wounded look in her eyes when she's examined the lookon your face, she knows it too.  
  
You've never been a coward and you still don't know how to deal with being one, now.  
  
\----  
  
Emily comes home.  
  
She naturally doesn't call and tell you, but you find out from James, who sounds completely uncharacteristically excited about it, like he's eight again--kind of what you imagine he sounded like when he first found the box of fannies--and he's barely making any sense, so you cut him off with a, "Fucking hell, slow down" and then it comes out.  
  
"She broke up with her, Kay," James says, and almost sounds like he's going to cry. "She's telling Mum and Dad right now. She broke up with her and she's here."  
  
You can't quite believe it. He repeats it a few more times, ending in a "She finally fucking ended it with that cunt" until he hangs up and you promise to come over as soon as you're done with like, your washing up, or whatever, but you haven't got any. You've just got this sickly feeling in your stomachthat this isn't how it's meant to go.  
  
You call Effy almost without thinking about it, and when she shows up with a six-pack of Corona you're so relieved that you have to swallow hard just to be able to say hello.  
  
You've drank a bottle and a half and told Effy most of what you know, which is nothing, before Effy takes a slow pull off her own second beer and then clears her throat. "I thought this was what you wanted. Emily back, I mean. With your family."  
  
"It is," you say and then rest your forehead against the bottle. "But it's not--how do you go from wanting to marry someone to breaking up like this? Something's not right."  
  
"Perhaps your reaction is what caused this," Effy says after a moment, and when you look at her face you know she's not saying it be mean, but youcan't help yourself.  
  
"Yeah? And who made you the fucking relationship guru of Bristol, then?"  
  
"I know how relationships end," Effy responds with barely a flinch and of course she manages to make you feel even worse just by being less of a cunt than you are.  
  
"Yeah, sorry," you say after a second and then pound the rest of the beer back.  
  
"You should go talk to her," Effy says when she finishes her own, and then puts a cold, wet hand on your back, right between your shoulder blades, and it makes you feel just about steady enough to get up and nod.  
  
"Thanks," you say a bit later, and then take the remaining two beers. "I'll call, yeah? We'll finish these."  
  
"Whatever," Effy says, suddenly sounding like a teenager again, and she looks like she realizes it when she rolls her eyes. "Sure."  
  
She walks you to your car and leans her elbow on the roof and then looks away into the distance.  
  
"You know, the last time I fantasized about running you over was quite a while ago," you say, grin at the end to make sure she knows you're kidding, and her lips quirk up into a smile.  
  
"If it blows, just call me later; we'll get lashed together, okay?" she finally says, before patting the roof of your car and walking off.  
  
It took about five years, in the end, but by the time you pull up to your parents' house, you realize that Effy Stonem _is_ your best fucking friend. Finally.  
  
It'd be nice to tell someone, but you know you can't.  
  
\----  
  
Your mum hugs you tightly when you walk in, almost crying with joy, and your dad also claps you the back, like you've finally accomplished it. Like this is _still_ your job: keeping Emily in order, making sure that she stays Fitch-appropriate. You can't stand any of them right now, but least of all Emily.  
  
She's up in your old bedroom, now the guest room, unpacking a few things from a duffle bag and you lean in the doorway.  
  
"Hey, Katie," she says, and to anyone who isn't her twin, you're sure she sounds properly sad, but you just stare at her.  
  
"What the fuck are you playing at, then?"  
  
She stops folding up her shirts and just looks back at you for a moment before sighing. "Close the door, then."  
  
She sits down on the edge of the new queen-sized bed your parents have put in your old room and pats the duvet next to her, and you shake yourhead. "No. Just fucking explain what's going on. You broke up with Naomi?"  
  
She looks like she's going to say yes, but the longer you keep your eyes on her--well, some things haven't changed, and she still can't lie worth shit, unless you give her an out by wanting to believe her when she's lying. She finally drops her eyes and shakes her head. "No. I didn't. But please don't tell them."  
  
"Emily, what is fucking--" you start saying.  
  
"I am _tired_ of not having a family, okay?" she interjects, and starts crying only a second later. "Jesus Christ. I can't even go home with Naomi anymore because her mum's so fucking lovely to both of us and it just _hurts_ , knowing that my own parents are only three miles over but they don't want to see me unless I stop living with the person I love. I just--"  
  
"Right. So you _lie to them_ about your life, about what you're doing, and that makes it better?"  
  
"At least they'll _be here_ , Katie," she snaps at you and then stares at you with such a venomous look on her face that you almost take a step back butthe door blocks your path, obviously. "It's not like you have any idea what that's like, not having parents. They didn't give up on _you_ , now did they? Theperfect, _straight_ daughter who loved them enough to stay."  
  
"Fuck you," you tell her and then rub at your face because you won't give her the satisfaction of crying. "You have no idea what you're talking about, and this is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever--"  
  
"Yeah, well, it's what's happening," she says, firmly--like that night at that fucking dance when she personally brought down the last nail in the coffinthat was your social life--and you don't know how to respond to her, just like you didn't then.  
  
"And what about me?" you finally ask, and she looks at you with sensitive, wounded yes, that look that still means you can't be a bitch to her, even though that's the role you play; she's lovely, you're not, and you don't know how to snap out of it. "Am I just meant to like, forget that you're still living with Naomi? Are we going to go on double-dates now, like old times? What the fuck am _I_ supposed to do with this, Emily?"  
  
"Be happy," she says, and then looks away again. "You've got your sister back, and they'll leave you alone from now on."  
  
"You couldn't be more wrong," you tell her, completely choking on the words, and then follow it up with an, "I don't even think my sister exists anymore" before leaving the room. You run into James in the hallway and try to shove him aside, but he's too big now, and so you have to punctuate it with a kick to his shin until he finally just backs off and lets you leave.  
  
You don't cry until you're back in your car, and then wait for someone to come find you. James shows up a few minutes later, and asks if something's wrong, why aren't you happy.  
  
"It's just a lot, you know? Having her back," you manage to say, and dig your nails into your thighs so as to not rat her out.  
  
You're still _her_ sister. That part never changed.  
  
\----

 

You make it through dinner, but barely. Your mum suggests at some point that Emily should come stay with you and you almost throw up at thesuggestion of seeing her constantly, and then feel like your heart is breaking all over again because you did _everything_ together for seventeen yearsand if she were still _that_ Emily, you wouldn't even hesitate before agreeing.  
  
"I can't, Mum, my apartment's a sty," you say instead and get a lecture about housekeeping that you ignore completely while staring intently at yourplate, just to not have to look across from you.  
  
You leave as quickly as you can in the evening, citing a desire to go on a run, and of _course_ your dad's got your back on that, lets you go, tells youhe's proud of you (and he hasn't said that since you took your Home Economics GCSE and for once got a higher bloody mark on something thanEmily did).  
  
You're already on your way to your own house when you realize you really just don't want to be alone, and then finally just suck it up and drive over to Effy's house instead. You stupidly idle in front of the gate for a few moments but then get out of the car, look up at the bedroom window that yoususpect is probably still hers--you've been there once, maybe twice before--and then just ring the doorbell.  
  
Anthea opens, looks totally wrecked and surprised to see you, but then lets you in and directs you upstairs to Effy's bedroom. You knock and sheopens after a second, wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a long t-shirt, and without make-up on you can see the bruise has turned an ugly, lurid shade ofyellow that you can't help but reach out and touch.  
  
She pulls you into her room almost immediately with a harsh, "Don't" and then closes the door behind her, grips your wrist until you lower your hand.You blink at her in surprise until she lets go and then slumps against the door.  
  
"Don't--just, she--" Effy starts saying and then shakes her head. "We _don't_ talk about it, okay? It was just once, and I was being a cunt, so--"  
  
"Effy..." you breathe, and then just stare at her helplessly.  
  
"Just--don't pay attention to it, please. It'll upset her," Effy says and rubs at her eyes. "It's my own fucking fault anyway, I shouldn't leave alcohol around the house."  
  
You sit down on her bed after a few seconds and then sigh. "I don't even know what to say."  
  
"What about Emily?" Effy asks after a moment and sits down next to you.  
  
"I don't know what to say about _that_ , either," you say after a second, with a wry smile, and then sigh. "She's lying to everyone but me, now, apparently. I go from being totally on my parents' side to totally on hers and just once, really, I wish someone would fucking _ask_ me how I feel about any of this."  
  
"All right," Effy says, crossing her legs. "Go ahead."  
  
You sigh and rub your face. "I miss my sister. I miss knowing what kind of person she was, knowing that she was a better person than I am, because I don't think that's true anymore. And then I don't miss always being stupid and like, I don't know, like a failure compared to her, even though that's not really her fault. I hate that my parents can't understand that I don't tell her what she does anymore, and I haven't in a long time, and I hate that shecan't just stand up to them but instead just makes me cover for her constantly."  
  
"But you don't hate that she's gay," Effy says after a moment and you look up at her in surprise. "What, Katie, we go back quite a while. I knew Emilywas gay long before you did and well, I _get_ why she didn't tell you."  
  
"I'm not homophobic," you say finally. "Not anymore, anyway. And I only was back then because prior to _girls_ , Emily had never been interested in anything."  
  
"Other than you," Effy supplies and it's so ridiculous that you can't help but agree.  
  
"I'm surprised I had any friends, really," you say after a moment. "I mean, I was a completely ridiculous cunt."  
  
"You were fun," Effy says after a moment. "A cunt, but fun."  
  
"Well, thanks," you say awkwardly and then she sits in a bit closer, tentatively puts an arm around your back.  
  
"You spiked those brownies at Panda's party and completely fucked up her mum," Effy continues, and you can hear the smile in her voice.  
  
"And ruined her house. Fucking Danny," you supply, also smiling.  
  
"God, you two were vile together," Effy says with a faint shudder and you elbow her in the side. "No, really, that's a truth that has to be acknowledged."  
  
"Tosser," you agree amiably and Effy laughs softly.  
  
"Shall we get out of here? I--" she starts saying and then stops abruptly, looks at the door with a sigh. "Things are a bit... off here, at the moment."  
  
"We'll stop by Co-op and get some Lambrini, braid each other's hair or something, yeah?" you suggest after a moment, and squeeze her thigh beforegetting up.  
  
"Classiest date ever, Katie," Effy says in response, so dryly that you have to work not to laugh, but you manage to just roll your eyes before grabbingyour purse off the floor.  
  
\----  
  
You watch another subtitled, Spanish movie, and apparently fall asleep halfway during because when you blink your eyes open again you're on yourside, with your head on Effy's lap. You blink up at her and she just sort of smirks.  
  
"Good nap, then?"  
  
You roll your eyes at her and sit back up, and realize the credits are done and the movie's long finished. "What time is it?"  
  
"One, half one," Effy says vaguely and then just looks at you, waits for you to say something else.  
  
"Well, come on then," you say after a beat and reach for her hand, pull her up and make her follow you into the bedroom.  
  
You swear she whispers _thanks_ before she falls asleep but since she's facing away from you, you can't be sure.  
  
\----  
  
Emily calls the next morning. You look at Effy slowly waking up next to you and hiss, "Please be quiet" at her before answering abruptly.  
  
"I'd like to spend some time together, while I'm here," Emily says and you sigh because you obviously have to, or your parents will know something's wrong, and it's only for a bank holiday weekend but it's going to feel like a fucking lifetime with a stranger. One who's lying to everyone about something.  
  
"Yeah, well, it's too fucking early. I'll stop by for lunch, okay?"  
  
"Why don't I just come get you?" Emily suggests and you sigh.  
  
"Fine. Whatever."  
  
Effy looks at you with a faintly curious expression when you slam your phone back down on the nightstand, before raising her eyebrows, and you laugh unwillingly.  
  
"Fuck off," you say, and she grins before responding with, "Your life is _so_ dramatic, Katie."  
  
"Yeah?" you counter. "Well, fucking learn to cook some breakfast, babe. This isn't like, a hotel."  
  
"I make decent eggs," Effy says after a second, and then swings out of bed, wearing those stupid tiny shorts you gave her last night and a t-shirt, andyou kind of hate her for still being so attractive in the morning.  
  
"I have a spare toothbrush," you say out of nowhere and then sigh. "Whatever. It's _for me_ , actually, but use it if you like."  
  
Effy smiles before heading into the bathroom and you wonder how it got to this point, where you're offering toothbrushes to the girl who almost killedyou (accidentally) and you're trying to avoid your sister who you know you're supposed to love.  
  
\----  
  
Effy makes excellent eggs, as it turns out. "What the fuck is in this?" you ask after a few bites and Effy shrugs.  
  
"Spanish-style omelette. Just stuff."  
  
"Well, you cunt, if you're going to be that secretive about it you're just going to have to come over and cook it more often," you respond.  
  
"All right," Effy says after a beat, before you look at each other in surprise for a moment.  
  
\----  
  
Effy goes home after a shower and you clean your apartment like she's left traces; only when you're sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Emily to arrive, do you realize that she's not the only one keeping secrets. Difference is you're not involving other people in them.  
  
Emily looks around your apartment curiously and then looks at you with something akin to pride. "This is neat, Katie. Really adult. And very you."  
  
There's not even a millimeter of leopard print anything in sight, so you have no idea what the fuck she means by that, and suspect that she doesn'teither.  
  
You head out to town together by bus and she looks around Bristol like she hasn't seen it in decades. It makes you incredibly uncomfortable and youpretend you don't notice, until you get off and she suggests just getting some coffee and danish at a Costa Coffee.  
  
"Whatever," you say and follow her inside, where you then awkwardly sit and stare at each other.  
  
"I'd be infinitely more comfortable if I could stay at your place," Emily says after a beat. "Next time."  
  
"Thought you missed your family," you respond coldly after a moment and then slowly take a bit of a maple-pecan twist before looking at her.  
  
"Yeah, well, it's tiring," she says; doesn't elaborate beyond that and you don't extend an offer. It takes her a minute or so to work up to the follow-up. "I mean, are you seeing someone? Is that the problem?"  
  
You almost choke; think about Effy cooking omelettes in your kitchen and then almost choke again because you start laughing helplessly.  
  
Emily looks at you with a wounded expression on her face and you shake your head. "Sorry, just caught something in my throat--no, I'm not seeinganyone. I haven't fucking seen anyone in forever, Ems. You know that."  
  
"So then what?" she asks and you finish your danish before responding.  
  
"I just don't think it'll work out. You and me in a small space together."  
  
There's not really any better way to put it than that, and you part ways after lunch.  
  
\----  
  
You beg out of dinner citing a migraine and then call Effy, who agrees to come over with barely any pause, and then shows up on your doorstep twenty minutes later with an overnight bag.  
  
"I just--" she says, looking at it, and you roll your eyes.  
  
"It's fine. I get it, okay? You don't have to explain if you don't want to."  
  
You get blisteringly drunk and then talk shit about Freddie until about one in the morning, when Effy finally goes, "I've had better sex with myself, honestly" and you laugh so hard that she ends up getting you a glass of water because you can't breathe for most of it.  
  
"Thanks," you tell her afterwards and she just looks at you for a moment before looking away again.  
  
"Couldn't have done it without him," she says after a beat, and then grins. "Or, well, _could have_ , I guess was my point."  
  
You kick her right around the same time you start laughing again; go to bed with painful stomach muscles and a sore throat, but she's smiling too when the lights go out, and you sleep without dreaming for eight straight hours, for once.  
  
\----  
  
"What are the wonder twins doing today?" Effy asks over breakfast, with waggling eyebrows.  
  
"Ugh, fuck off," you say, tiredly. "We're going to the cinema. Or something. Fuck if I know, Emily wants to do this, so Emily can damn well sort it out."  
  
"Fair enough," Effy says after a moment and then sips the rest of her orange juice.  
  
"What about you?" you ask after a beat. "Any plans?"  
  
"AA meeting," she says, shortly. You don't press, but after a second she smiles wryly. "She's getting her two week chip. It's lovely, really, how they just let you start over like that."  
  
You've not been able to stop thinking about the handprint since you saw it, even though it's all but gone now, but you haven't asked about it; knowing somehow that if you did ask, the best you could offer was to just listen, and Effy isn't a talker, so you'd feel positively worthless. But now, watching hermove around your kitchen with an almost habitual ease--turning on the coffee maker for your second cup, putting the margarine back on the second shelf rather than in the door--it suddenly hits you that maybe, there's something better you can be doing, and it wouldn't fucking kill you to do it, noteven a little.  
  
Effy looks at you curiously when she sits back down and you say, "Just hang on." You only hesitate for a second before getting up and rummaging around your kitchen drawer, before you find what you're looking for and palm it. "Ef," you say, back still turned to her, and she goes "Hm?" in response.  
  
"How much do you make? After taxes."  
  
"It varies," she says after a beat. "At least a thousand; sometimes almost double that, depending on how much work there is."  
  
You stand next to her chair and put a hand on her shoulder. "You know, if there's one thing I truly fucking hate about this place is that there's no roomfor that leopard-print rug I've always wanted."  
  
Effy looks up sharply, tilting her neck back, and then laughs. "God. For a second there I thought--"  
  
"Here," you say, and press your spare key into her hands. "You don't--you shouldn't be living with her, Ef."  
  
"She's my mum, Katie," Effy says, after an awkward pause, but then wraps her fingers around the key anyway.  
  
"I know. And nobody's saying you need to stop caring about her. But you don't have to live with her. This will do for now, I think; I only have to give one month's notice, and it'll take us that long to find something like, whatever, that we can both live with."  
  
Effy doesn't say anything for a long time, but then finally just smirks at you faintly. "Moving in together already? But sweetheart, we've never evenkissed."  
  
You flip her off but leave it at that, because her gratitude is almost palpable, and besides, her eggs really _are_ fucking brilliant and you suspect there's more she can cook. Everyone wins.  
  
"You're joking about the leopard-print rug, though, right?" Effy asks after a second, covering the hand on her shoulder with one of her own. "Becausethe loud snoring, that's fine--I'll buy some earplugs. The rug, however... well, some things are just dealbreakers."  
  
"Oh, fuck you," you say and then laugh when she just pockets the key and winks at you.  
  
\----  
  
It takes approximately the entire month to find an apartment; first, because you don't have time to go look for one until Emily fucks off to London again, which is then followed by Effy suddenly drowning in work and so it's not until week two of your notice that you actually go to a real estate agent andlook at what's for rent.  
  
"Wrong part of town," you say and Effy nods, before pointing at the next picture. "Too old. Maintenance would be like, well, I don't know if you're handywith a hammer, babe, but I'm not." Effy shakes her head and moves to the next one. "Ugh. I bet that there's a shitton of kids in that neighborhood. Look at the station wagon. No thanks."  
  
At that point, Effy stops pointing. "We could just stay in your apartment."  
  
The truth is, you could, because Effy is a ridiculously unobtrusive roommate and like, basically just had one suitcase of shit to bring over, which israther pathetic but then she'd shrugged and said she'd been living out of one for five years and you'd shut up because Spain is still a mostly off-limits topic.  
  
But then you think about like, what happens when she finally decides to go fuck someone--and it bothers you immensely, that you automatically assume that whatever the hell is wrong with both of you, _she_ will be the first one to get over it and find someone to shag and bring them home--andwell, you're not sleeping on your own goddamned sofa while listening to Effy getting off in your bed.  
  
"No, we can't," you say, and point at the next apartment yourself.  
  
"Look at how dark the house next door is," Effy says after a beat. "I bet our future neighbor's an axe murderer."  
  
"I hate you," you say, but gamely point at the next picture anyway.  
  
\----  
  
"Evening, sweetheart," Effy calls out when you fumble with the keys and whatever the hell she's cooking smells delicious, so you only roll your eyes ather in response as she grins. "And how was work today?"  
  
"My arse has never been tighter, thanks," you respond drolly before leaning around her. "The fuck's that?"  
  
"Paella," Effy says and skewers a shrimp on a fork before holding it out. Only after you've tugged it off with your teeth and see the look on her face doyou realize she probably meant for you to take _the fork,_ not just the shrimp. You blush instantly and then clear your throat.  
  
"Right, well, it's good," you say, terribly awkwardly, and then fuck off to your bedroom to change.  
  
Things are fine by the time you come back, because well, it's Effy, and then she makes you a plate--you're on the couch, ready for the soaps--andhands over a print-out of something to you.  
  
"What's this, then?" you say absently, reaching for your reading glasses and Effy settles next to you.  
  
"Our new apartment," she says, just like that, and with such confidence that you're pretty sure she's actually found it because you're both getting so crabby just thinking about looking at more places that she wouldn't mess with you like that.  
  
You glance the sheet up and down and blink. "Right, when are we seeing it?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning. Hey, be quiet--I think they're about to reveal whether or not that's her real mum," Effy says, and pauses with her fork halfway to hermouth.  
  
Three weeks ago, Effy had _laughed_ when you'd demanded to watch _Eastenders_. You can't help but feel a little bit satisfied at how quickly the mighty have fallen.  
  
\----  
  
When you wake up the next morning, for once, Effy is facing your way, and her hand's resting on your stomach, over the covers, so you barely evenfeel it but just know it's there because you can see it.  
  
You leave it be, because if you move it you'll just scare the shit out of her again and she looks so fucking relaxed that you basically just can't.  
  
\----

 

The apartment is perfect, and it's only when you change your address details at work that you realize you haven't told your family that you're movingyet.  
  
You bring it up at dinner, later that evening, and everyone looks at you in surprise.  
  
"But that's on the other side of Bristol," your mum finally says, looking astounded. "Katie, how are you even affording to live there?"  
  
"I'm taking on a roommate," you say as plainly as possible. "An old friend from college."  
  
It hurts so much to see your mum look relieved at that. "Well, that'll be good for you, darling. You'll be a little less lonely."  
  
"Right," you agree and then blink dumbly at your dinner because you didn't realize they knew. And they made you do this, stay in Bristol, in this shitty life, anyway.  
  
"I look forward to seeing it, kid," your dad supplies after a second and that's when you realize, abruptly, that there are maybe some unforeseen problems with moving in with Effy.  
  
\----  
  
"My parents want to see our place," you tell her later that evening, over a game of Pusoy Dos which is some sort like, variant on Wanker that took her four evenings to teach you how to play and another two for you to figure out how to win. Tonight, you're also doing shots, because Effy doesn't like losing and if you're a little bit pissed you are much less likely to beat her.  
  
"I'll be sure to keep my rock collection out of sight," she says after moving several of her cards around in her hands, and then grins. "Flush."  
  
"Fuck off, that's practically impossible," you tell her and then look down at the table and sigh. "Bitch."  
  
"It's not a big deal. Are they likely to stop by unexpectedly?" Effy says midway through the next round. "I mean, do they even know what I _look_ like?"  
  
"No," you respond after another shot and then wince. "I guess they don't. I mean, they know about you, but I think all I managed at the time was cuntfaced whore slut who beat my head in with a rock."  
  
"I don't imagine it says that on my forehead," Effy says, evenly, and you laugh unwillingly.  
  
"All right then. _Isabel_. Because I sure as fuck can't call you Effy, now can I."  
  
She flips you off before throwing down a pair of aces. "Guess who's losing."  
  
"Aren't you a little bit embarrassed that you had to get me drunk to get me in this state?" you say, looking at the pile of cards to your right andcomparing it to her pile, and then look at her face when she doesn't respond.  
  
"A little," she says after a beat, and then looks at her next hand, laughs again. "Oh, you're going to hate me."  
  
"Whatever, babe," you say and watch she puts down a royal flush. You take the next shot straight from the bottle and then just hang on to it, because she is handing your ass to you.  
  
\----  
  
Effy goes home and tells her mum about her new place while you move all of your shit out with a little bit of help from James, who is so baked that he almost drops your sofa, twice, and then actually _does_ drop your bed.  
  
"Fuck's sake, you worm," you snap at him and then try not to laugh when he looks up with a dazed look on his face. "Pull yourself together, yeah? I can't afford to replace every fucking thing I own."  
  
"Sorry," he mumbles and pays just enough attention to get the rest of your shit out of the house and into the rented van without any hassle.  
  
He fucks off somewhere after moving the heavy stuff in and you text Effy to let her know she can come over. She responds by letting you know thatshe's picking up some groceries first and will be there shortly, and you've only barely managed to get another two boxes up to your bedroom by thetime she arrives.  
  
"Let me help," she says plainly, and then can't lift a single thing you've packed.  
  
"Go unpack the living room," you tell her with an eyeroll. "You _shrimp_."  
  
You don't hear the doorbell because you're playing music in your bedroom--not like unpacking's any more fun than packing--so you don't actuallyrealize that your parents have shown up until Effy knocks on your door and says, with a faintly raised eyebrow, "You've got guests."  
  
Effy buggers off to her own room--furniture-less until tomorrow, when you go and get her stuff--and leaves you in the living room with your parents.  
  
"Isabel seems nice. Can I call her Izzy?" your mum asks and you shrug while biting your cheek because it won't do to start laughing.  
  
"Sure, why not."  
  
"She's very pretty, isn't she," your mum says, and looks you up and down so slowly that you almost feel yourself deflate. "Going to be tough landing a good-looking lad with that one around, I fear."  
  
"Thanks, Mum," you say, obviously sarcastically, but it's one of those things that she's never picked up on.  
  
"Could use some time in the gym, that girl," your dad just comments and then looks around. "I could bring over our old stereo, wire it up to the walls. How'd you like that?"  
  
"Thanks, Dad," you say, a little more sincerely, because your dad may be a moron but he's at least _trying_ to be nice to you.  
  
"The living room could use a rug, for some color, Katie," your mum says after a moment and you look her square in the eye.  
  
"Yeah, we're getting one soon. Leopard-print; you know how I like that."  
  
She smiles at you and then gets up, kisses the top of your head, says something moronic like _that's my Katie_ and you just feel yourself die a little onthe spot.  
  
When they finally leave, you're too tired to do anything else, and instead knock on Effy's door. "Hey," you say, and she lets you in, until you're both sat against one wall and staring at the other one.  
  
"Do you have any pictures from college," Effy asks after a long moment, and when you nod, she continues, "Could I make some copies of them?"  
  
"Yeah, course," you say and then watch her watch the empty wall for a long moment, before getting up to start on dinner.  
  
\----  
  
You eat on the sofa, watch _Eastenders_ , play Pusoy Dos on the coffee table since the kitchen chairs are spread all over the apartment from when Effy stood on them to put in new lightbulbs, and then finally you get ready for bed.  
  
"Hey, Ef?" you ask when she's pulled her half of the covers up, and she rolls back around to face you, face still faintly visible because of the nightlightyou plugged in after just a second of wondering if maybe you would finally be okay without it, now. "How was your mum, about this? You moving here permanently?"  
  
Effy sighs softly and then shrugs. "Sad. Guilty. Apologetic. Full of promises. The usual."  
  
"It's not Spain, though. She gets that you're not--going that far away again, right?" you say, and Effy looks at you with a faint smile and pained eyes.  
  
"She didn't notice I'd gone to Spain until I'd already lived there for three months, Katie. So no, it's not Spain."  
  
You move in closer without thinking and pull her into a hug. It takes her at least half an hour to relax, and by that time you can't really keep your eyes open long enough to move away again. She weighs next to nothing anyway, is the last thing you think before you fall asleep.  
  
\----  
  
You wake up with a mouthful of Effy's hair and your sputtering wakes her up. For once, there aren't circles underneath her eyes and she yawns before sitting up. "Sorry," she says and then slips out of bed.  
  
"Hey," you ask, before she can leave. "When's the last time you slept through the night?"  
  
"I don't remember," she says, and then shrugs. "Other than last night, apparently."  
  
You make breakfast and eat it slowly because the minute you stop, you have to go get the rest of her furniture and your arms are killing you already.  
  
"Your new name's Izzy, by the way," you say, mostly as a stalling tactic, and Effy rolls her eyes spectacularly.  
  
"Thanks, Katherine. That's lovely."  
  
You try not to grin; opt not to look at her instead.  
  
\----  
  
As it turns out, even with Anthea's help--who you can barely look at knowing for a fact that she slapped Effy once, and suspecting that she did something a hell of a lot worse than that five years ago--Effy's bed is almost impossible to move. It's not the bed, although the fact that it's got a single solid frame doesn't help, so much as the winding staircase, and after some quick mental math, you conclude that it's either going out the window, orit's not going out at all.  
  
"Well, bugger this to hell, then," Anthea says and looks at both of you. "I'm going to make some coffee. Let me know what you decide to do."  
  
You sit down on the bloody thing and then look at Effy, who has shrugged her hands into her pockets and is staring out the window morosely.  
  
"You can buy a new bed," you suggest. "Like, they're not all that dear; and Ikea delivers."  
  
"I know," she says and then sighs deeply. "I just--wanted a clean break, you know?"  
  
"Yeah," you say and then kick her in the shin. "Come on, you can be angsty about this later; let's get your stuff home."  
  
She looks at you sharply at the last word and it's like weight visibly falls off her.  
  
You're a little bit pleased with yourself.  
  
\----  
  
You miss the Ikea delivery twice, because of work--since Effy's in charge of most of the shopping, since she works from home--and by the time the bed finally arrives you both just sort of stare at it because the instructions are, as predicted, totally fucking incomprehensible.  
  
"Am I bothering you," Effy says, midway through the third assembly attempt.  
  
"No, this fucking drawing is," you snap back, crabbily, and then look up at her. "Bothering me with what?"  
  
"Sleeping in the same bed."  
  
You drop the miniature wrench and kick it halfway across the room. "No, of course not. You sleep like the dead, I barely even notice you're there."  
  
"Right," Effy says, and then looks back at her part of the instructions without saying anything else. You blink. Twice.  
  
"What, are you saying you want to stay, then?" Once you've it said it loud, it sounds a lot gayer than it did in your head, where it doesn't sound gay because she's bloody well been sleeping in your bed for almost two months now.  
  
Effy just shrugs in response and lifts up a slat before sticking it into the frame. When she lifts the frame, the slat promptly falls out again, and she looks at you with pursed lips.  
  
"Fine. We'll get my fucking brother to come and fix it or something, and until then we'll just use this as like, the office or whatever. All right?"  
  
"What do you want for dinner," Effy says in response and you snap, "Whatever" at her before packing together all the bloody instructions and tools andparts and dumping them in the corner of Effy's room.  
  
She makes a vegetarian lasagna that is so delicious that you don't even realize you're making some sort of approving noise while swallowing until she snorts.  
  
"No, really, enjoy it to the fullest, Katie," she says with a laugh. "God, well, at least now I know what sounds to ignore when you have someone over."  
  
You kick at her under the table. "Fuck off. It's just good, is all."  
  
"Mm," she says with a smile and you continue eating in silence until she clears her throat. "Kay."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"How come you're not seeing anyone?"  
  
It's like your fucking mother just showed up to ruin an already frustrating, shitty day a little bit more. " _Jesus_. Because I don't fucking feel like it, okay?"  
  
"All right," Effy says mildly.  
  
"Well, why the fuck aren't _you_ seeing anyone?" you ask, angrily, after a few more seconds of silence. "I mean, why is it a fucking problem that I'm not seeing anyone when you're not seeing anyone either?"  
  
"It's not a problem," Effy says and then takes a sip of water, swallows slowly. "You're just good with relationships. I figured you'd be in one by now, something fairly permanent."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm not," you say, sullenly, and not just a little embarrassed because you completely blew up at her out of nowhere and well, she couldn'tbe _less_ like your mother. "What about you?"  
  
"I'm not very good with commitment," Effy says after a slightly awkward pause. "And after everything that happened with us in college, I haven't been very interested in just fucking around."  
  
"Right," you say, and then look at your empty plate. "Is there more?"  
  
"In the oven," Effy says neutrally and just like that the subject is dropped.  
  
\----  
  
For a few hours anyway. Drunken card games are never a good idea, because Effy wins, and sometimes Effy asks questions.  
  
Like: "So, no relationship--casual sex?"  
  
You almost choke on your mojito--Effy's way of saying _I'm sorry I pried_ , or so you'd thought--before flipping her off. "Jesus. What kind of fucking question is that."  
  
"Well, fuck's sake, Katie. We're twenty-two, not like, five thousand," she says, nicely enough. "Surely you've fucked someone since Freddie?"  
  
Part of you wants to tell her to fuck off and then the rest of you has never been particularly prude and so you say, "Yeah, of course."  
  
"All right," Effy says and doesn't ask anything else.  
  
"Not like, _regularly_. I'm not a fucking slut," you add, and realize you're probably drunk after you've already said it.  
  
"No, you're not," Effy says, with an odd little smile.  
  
"Well, neither are you. We've been like, seeing each other for four months now and I haven't seen you fuck anyone," you say, which of course youhaven't, because why would you be watching, and you must have a spectacularly stupid look on your face because Effy snorts.  
  
" _Seen_ me?"  
  
"Whatever. If you were fucking someone I'd know," you amend and she nods.  
  
"There hasn't been anyone since Spain." She looks a little uncomfortable admitting that out loud, and you decide to throw her a bone.  
  
"It's been four months. And then before that, it was eight months."  
  
Effy doesn't really react in any way, just refills your drink from the jug and then passes out a new hand of cards silently.  
  
"I don't want to be pathetic like that again," you say before you can stop it.  
  
"What, by having sex?" Effy asks softly.  
  
"No, by--being so hung up on having a boyfriend. I just--I don't want to be like that ever again."  
  
"You won't," Effy says before throwing down a pair of fours. "You're barely even the same person anymore, Katie."  
  
"Yeah. And maybe that's just because I'm not seeing anyone," you confess.  
  
"I can't imagine that's true," she interjects gently; throws a pair of eights on top of your sevens, and you take a sip of your drink before looking at yourhand again.  
  
"I barely even miss it," you say when you realize you have to pass and she deals out another hand. "I mean, sex, that is. We've already discussed Freddie; Danny was worse, if you can believe that, and well, whatever. I manage."  
  
"Ah, and out it comes. I was wondering why some of these were a little sticky," Effy says after a beat, and then wriggles her fingers at you.  
  
You throw the remainder of your cards in her face and try valiantly not to laugh. "I can't believe people thought _I_ was a cunt. God."  
  
"Relax, Katie. We all do it, so it really shouldn't be a big deal," Effy says, plainly enough, and after a few seconds of scowling you help her sort thecards out.  
  
\----  
  
Later that night, in bed, you wonder when the _fuck_ she's been doing it lately, because you sleep in the same bed and see each other fairly constantlythe rest of the day.  
  
You're suddenly hit with an image of Effy leaning back in her desk chair and just unbuttoning her trouser and feel your face get red so abruptly that youput your hands to it just to cool it down.  
  
"No more mojitos," you tell her the next morning when she's reading _The Independent_ and eating a piece of toast. "I feel completely rubbish."  
  
"Poor baby," she says teasingly, and you try not to stare at her fingers when they flip the page.  
  
\----

 

It takes you nearly another three weeks to finally motivate your pissant brother to come over to your apartment and fix Effy's bed, when Effy's off at afull day editorial meeting about something or other that she just handwaved you about and you couldn't be bother to enquire after further. Turns out he'sjust as rubbish at it as you two were so you give it one last go, with the two of you, and then hesitantly sit down on it afterwards and sigh in relief whenit doesn't just immediately collapse again.  
  
"Mum says she's well fit, this Izzy," James says when you're smoking up on your own bed later that afternoon.  
  
"She's my age, James," you tell him and he shrugs.  
  
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate. So is she? Fit?"  
  
You spend about ten seconds thinking about Effy objectively; long legs, disgustingly beautiful eyes, long, wavy hair. "Yeah, she's a fucking supermodel," you say, trying for sarcasm, but instead you just end up sounding admiring.  
  
"So when's she coming home, then?"  
  
You hear the door slam shut seconds later. "That'll be her right now."  
  
James, the little shit, is anything but shy, so he's out the door before you can stop him and then goes, " _Woah_ " when he spots her, and it seems thatEffy's reduced him to an idiotic ten year old all over again, and you're not doing much better because you slap him in the back of the head a second later.  
  
"Ah, the master builder," Effy says with a small smile when she spots you both and James pulls himself together, goes over to shake her hand orcharm or her something and you roll your eyes.  
  
"Did you get it sorted, then?" Effy finally asks.  
  
"Yeah, it's sturdy enough for the both of us so it should hold your fat arse up," you say with a smile as she flips you off. "Any mail?"  
  
"Yeah," she says, tossing it on the coffee table. "I'm knackered, going to take a shower. Can you cook?"  
  
"Sure, babe," you say after a second before grabbing a beer from the fridge and handing it to James, who's sitting on the sofa with a hand held out in expectation.  
  
"Cute," he says after his first sip, licking his lips.  
  
"What," you say, shuffling through the mail, putting Effy's to one side and ignoring everything that's for you--all bills--on the other.  
  
"Your married couple routine," James says, and then grins smarmily. "It's cute."  
  
"Oh, sod off," you say to him before getting up and grabbing yourself a glass of juice. He finishes the rest of his beer in record time and is leaning forward to put it on the coffee table by the time you get back, but then stops before he puts it down.  
  
"What are you doing, you knob," you ask, and then stop talking when you see the look on his face.  
  
"What's Izzy short for," he asks you, rather abruptly, and then looks back down to Effy's pile of mail.  
  
"Isabel," you say with as straight a face as possible.  
  
"Really. Not Elizabeth?" he asks, and then holds up a letter. "As in Elizabeth Stonem?"  
  
"James..." you say a little helplessly and he gets up off the couch, still holding his empty bottle.  
  
"As in _Effy_ fucking Stonem? The nutjob who hit you in the head with a rock?"  
  
"Don't be absurd. Why the fuck would I live with her," you stutter, and he stares at you for one long moment before walking off towards your bedroomsand banging loudly on the bathroom door.  
  
"Hey, Effy?"  
  
You pray she doesn't respond. But of course she does, because it's her fucking name.  
  
James shoves the letter and the bottle at your chest and you clutch at them instinctively before he grabs his jacket. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Katie?"  
  
"It's--it's not at all like you think it is," you try and he shakes his head.  
  
"She almost fucking _killed_ you. And now you're what, serving her some sausages and mash while you're watching the soaps together?"  
  
You have nothing to counter that with and just look away and purse your lips.  
  
"You've lost your fucking mind, haven't you. I mean, I've thought it for years--ever since you _did_ get hit in the head with that rock, but you've justcompletely lost it," he says, suddenly not so angry anymore but just really sad, like you've let him down as much as you've let everyone else down.  
  
"I'm _fine_ , James. And so is she," you say as firmly as you can and he just looks at you for another long moment before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
Effy walks out of the bathroom in a small towel, second towel on her head just minutes later and you're still stood in the middle of the living room with abeer bottle and a letter in your hands.  
  
"Kay?" she asks, and then when you don't respond, moves in closer in front of you. "Hey, what's wrong?"  
  
"Your mail," you say slowly, and only then realize that your hands have started to shake, "is unfortunately _not_ addressed to Isabel."  
  
"Oh, shit," Effy says, and then just reaches down with both hands, until you drop the letter and the beer bottle onto the carpet, and pulls you into ahug. "It'll be okay, yeah? We'll figure out something, or I could just fuck off or whatever."  
  
"No," you say, firmly, and shake your head, clench down on tears you can feel coming up. "What the fuck, Effy. It's _my life_ , and if I want to live with someone who hit me in the head with a rock five years ago then so fucking what?"  
  
"Sh," she says, hands running up and down your back slowly. "You don't have to convince me. And we'll figure out a way to convince them. Okay?"  
  
You nod and then get angry with yourself when you start to cry, because it's pathetic, being this unhappy because you should feel guilty aboutsomething and you just don't. Effy doesn't complain, though. Just stays put in her ridiculously small towel and lets you cry.  
  
\----  
  
Effy never sleeps in her own bed.  
  
That first night, she gets you to bed and then you hold on to her hand until she acquiesces and slides in next to you, hugs you until you fall asleep.  
  
And every night after that, there's somehow a good reason for her to not go back to her own room after you've played a last few games of cards on yourbed, because you're both too tired, or too drunk, or she's closer to the wall and so bony that it would hurt you to have her climb over you to leave.  
  
You don't really think about it too much because whatever, your bed is huge.  
  
\----  
  
James betrays you in the worst way possible.  
  
He doesn't tell your parents.  
  
He tells Emily.  
  
\----  
  
You realize as much when Effy sends you a text that just says _999_ about an hour before you're due to go home, and then you can hear the shouting before you've even come all the way up the stairs, and some part of you is well impressed that Emily's voice has held out this long, because it's beenabout thirty minutes since you got the text message and she's obviously been yelling for a while.  
  
"Hey," you yell, sharply, once you've closed the door behind you and Emily is still going; Effy's just sat there, staring up at her rather defiantly andlooking exceptionally bored, until Emily whips around and Effy makes a throat-slitting motion before getting up and leaving for her room. "It's not _her_ fucking fault, okay?"  
  
"What, the fact that you've got this _lovely_ scar on your forehead?" Emily snaps back. "Because I seem to remember that being her fault."  
  
"Yeah, she fucking hit me in the head with a rock," you say, calmly, even though you know you're sounding shrill as hell because Emily just has thateffect on you. Always feeling enough to start screeching, somehow. "Five fucking years ago. Remember what you did five years ago? You fucked _JJ_."  
  
"Yes, and I'm not _living_ with him now, am I," Emily bites back.  
  
"Well, that's funny, because as far as our parents are concerned you might as well be, you lying, hypocritical cunt," you spit at her, and when sheinvoluntarily takes a step back you mentally tally one to your corner, before realizing that you've _never_ been able to be like this with Emily, and it drains the fight right out of you.  
  
"Are you that broken, then?" Emily finally asks, before sitting down on the coffee table. "Is this what I've done to you, by choosing her? You'd rather live with a fucking killer--"  
  
You're over there in about two steps and you hit her, hard. When you look up, Effy is watching with an inscrutable expression from the hallway and youalmost throw up with the need to apologize, to _her_ , rather than to your sister, who is clutching her cheek with a disbelieving expression.  
  
"Don't call her that," you say, still looking at Effy, who lowers her eyes and then disappears into her own room. "She fucking--it was an accident, okay?"  
  
"Well, she came damn close--"  
  
"She was high out of her mind and I spat in her face and tried to strangle her, Emily. She fucking grappled for something to get me to stop choking her,and well, here we are," you say, pointing at your temple. "But I fucking had it coming, okay? It was a fucking accident, and I fucking had it coming."  
  
Emily stares at you silently before sighing. "You never told me."  
  
"No. Because she went off and fucked Freddie, who loved her more than he ever cared about me, and it was a hell of a lot easier on me to pretend thatshe'd just flipped out and done this to me because that way, at least, people would feel _sorry_ for me. What the fuck else did I have left?"  
  
"You had me," Emily says after a moment and you sigh deeply.  
  
"No, I didn't. _She_ did. Still does, doesn't she."  
  
Emily doesn't say anything for a long time and you go into the kitchen to make some tea just because you have no idea what else to do; part of youjust wants to go and apologize to Effy but you don't know how to make a choice so blatant without losing your sister altogether.  
  
"No, she doesn't," Emily finally says.  
  
You turn around, kettle still in hand, and stare at her. "Who doesn't? What?"  
  
"Naomi doesn't still have me," Emily repeats, and then you watch with a sinking feeling as her eyes tear up. "I _did_ end it, Katie."  
  
You put the kettle back down on the counter and lean against it heavily. "What the fuck are you on about? You were marrying her."  
  
"Yeah, I was," Emily agrees, before rubbing at her eyes and taking a deep breath. "And then she told me that if I picked her over you again, I'd never see you again."  
  
You stay silent and Emily just smiles at you, sadly.  
  
"I could give a fuck about what Mum and Dad and James think, Katie, but you're my fucking _sister_. I hate what's happened to us, and I--"  
  
"You're such a fucking idiot," you somehow squeeze past the lump in your throat, and then blink rapidly to not start crying. "It's--Jesus Christ, Emily. I don't _care_ that you're with her, I don't _care_ that you want to marry her. I care that you don't give a shit about how it's made me feel, all these years, tohave to defend your choices."  
  
"I'm sorry," she says and you sigh deeply. "I _do_ care, Katie. I just--you've not been the same since that night in the woods, and I know I got selfish because I was happy."  
  
"Yeah," you say because there's not much else to say.  
  
"I hate this so much," Emily repeats, and then looks away from you, down at the floor. "You were such a bitch to me, but still. I never expected thatnot talking to you at all would be worse."  
  
"Go back to her," you say, finally. She looks up at you in surprise. "Don't be a fucking idiot. You love her more than--whatever. You just do, okay? So go back to her. I'm not going to be fucking happy knowing that you're miserable, either."  
  
"What, then?" she asks, before getting up.  
  
"Stop letting them do this to you," you say, and then shrug helplessly when she looks at you uncomprehendingly. "I've told them for years that it's not my choice, and that it's not going away, but they can only pretend it isn't happening if you let them. So stop it, okay?"  
  
She nods and then moves towards the front door, leans against it heavily. "Why are you doing this to yourself? Honestly. It must kill you to constantly see her, knowing what she almost did."  
  
"No," you say, slowly, before looking towards Effy's bedroom. "It doesn't. It reminds me that she didn't, actually. And that we're both okay."  
  
"I don't like it," Emily says and you roll your eyes.  
  
"This is the most we've talked in about four years. Do you honestly think I give a shit?"  
  
She nods just once, with a faint smile, and then she's gone. You exhale incredibly slowly and finish making tea before moving over to Effy's bedroom.  
  
"Bang," Effy says, miming a gun, after you've opened the door.  
  
"Don't be fucking retarded. You're about as likely to kill me as exercise is."  
  
Effy smiles. Your day improves almost instantly, and then rights itself completely when she says, "So. How drunk do you think we need to get to deal with the past few hours?"  
  
\----  
  
You're on the second bottle of vodka and long out of orange juice, lying on your backs on your bed, by the time you remember what you did earlier thatday.  
  
"I'm sorry," you say, almost immediately, and Effy just snorts because you're both incredibly fucked up.  
  
"About what."  
  
"Hitting her; Emily, hitting Emily," you say, stupidly, and then twist your head to look at Effy. "I'm sorry, okay?"  
  
"I think you should be telling Emily that," Effy responds dryly.  
  
"No, I mean, I'm not fucking _sorry_ , she had it coming, but I'm sorry that I'm like that, you know? That I get angry fast, that I get that angry and then just, fucking hit and slap people and like, choke them and whatever," you say, and then flinch when she finally turns to look at you. "I just--I try not to, okay, Ef? I don't _want_ to be like that, I don't want you to--"  
  
"Shh," she says, and then reaches out, brushes a bit of hair away from your face, and it's so nice a thing to do that you almost cry out of nowhere. "You're not my mum, Katie. I know that."  
  
"Yeah, well, I just don't want you to ever be afraid of me," you confess and she smiles at you softly.  
  
"Are you still afraid of me?" You shake your head and she shrugs. "So there."  
  
"I'm still sorry," you mumble, before rolling back over onto your back, and then jerk in surprise when she follows you, puts her head on your arm, nearyour shoulder, and bends her knees, until she's like a little ball at your side.  
  
"She didn't used to hit me. I mean, really, this all started after my father left," Effy says softly. "Tony was off in Cardiff, and my dad left us, and it wasjust me and my mum, and lots of alcohol around the house. It was fine, for a while. I was just as messed up as she was, right? And we never really saw each other. But then that shit in the woods happened, and suddenly I was home a lot more."  
  
"You don't have to--" you start saying, but then she squeezes your fingers and you stop talking.  
  
"The first time, really, I'd just come home from a night at Freddie's house, in that bloody shed, and she greeted me by throwing an empty bottle of scotch at my head. It missed, obviously, but it scared the shit out of me and she spent most of the next day crying and apologizing." Effy takes adeep breath and you shift until you can wrap your arm around her shoulder. "I thought that was the end of it."  
  
"It wasn't, though, was it," you softly fill in and she nods just once.  
  
"It was little things; never a lot, not at once, but she just got mean. I tried staying out more but coming back home proved worse, and then one day I showed up at Freddie's with a split lip and he figured out what was going on. Told me I could always stay at the shed if I needed to."  
  
"Didn't--I mean, didn't you tell your dad?"  
  
"I tried," Effy says, so emptily and simply that you feel your heart contract without warning. "Anyway. A few weeks before we graduated, I woke up because she punched me in the mouth and then tried to choke me. She thought I'd hidden the alcohol."  
  
"Had you?" you ask, barely getting the words out before feeling like you're going to be sick.  
  
"No," Effy says, and then exhales slowly, produces a wry smile out of nowhere. "She drank it all, and forgot."  
  
"Fuck, Ef," you breathe and wait for her to continue. She doesn't. "So that's when you left for Spain?"  
  
"I stayed at Freddie's until exams were over and left the next day," she says and then sits up. "And my mother never slapped me for a good reason, so don't think you're like her, okay? It was kind of sweet, what you did today, in a really backwards fashion."  
  
"Yeah, well, that's me. I care in retarded ways," you say, swallow hard afterwards just because you can't help but think that no matter how fucked thatwas, Effy's mum wasn't even the first person to go for the throat, so to speak. Before you can stop it, your fingers have reached for her neck, and shestiffens until all you do is place your fingers against it, listen to her pulse race.  
  
"It's okay," she tells you, and you pull your fingers back abruptly when you realize that you're about two seconds away from kissing her. In gratitude, orsomething, but it's still entirely fucked up.  
  
"I'm so drunk," you say, shifting away a little and then groaning, putting your hands over your eyes. "God, I have work tomorrow."  
  
"So skip it," Effy says, and when you shake your head she laughs. "Come on, Katie. Your dad's not going to fire you."  
  
"So what? Is that a reason to do shitty at my job now?"  
  
"Not what I said," Effy corrects mildly and then lies back down on her bed.  
  
"Yeah, well," you sigh and then jerk unexpectedly when her fingers cover yours.  
  
"If you could be doing anything, what would you be doing?" Effy asks, and it's one of those typical drunken questions that you just never expected tohear from Effy.  
  
"Tossing up," you say with a groan and then almost smile when she laughs.  
  
"No, I mean, with your life. Are you happy, here? In Bristol, working at the gym?"  
  
"God," you say, when you can. "You don't fuck around, do you."  
  
"It's how things get fucked up," Effy says kindly enough, and when you turn your head to look at her she's just staring back with an expression youdon't quite understand. "Answer me, then," she says after a beat, finally blinking.  
  
"I'd be anywhere. Doing anything but this," you finally say and then shrug. "Emily's the one who's got like, plans and shit. I've just got--"  
  
"If you say boyfriends, I will empty the remains of this bottle on your shirt," Effy warns and you roll your eyes with a smile.  
  
" _Fine_. I just, I don't know. They always expected her to go places, do shit, you know? Nobody had any plans for me other than getting married. I guess..." and you frown when it hits you, "Yeah, I guess I didn't either."  
  
"So get married," Effy says and you snort.  
  
"To _who_? And ugh, no thanks--the one thing I don't sodding hate is like, being on my own," you say without thinking.  
  
"Mm," Effy says in response, and then sits up drunkenly, runs her hands through her hair. "You're not really, though."  
  
"You don't count," you say after a beat and she looks at you over your shoulder.  
  
"Obviously, Katie."  
  
She sleeps in her own bed for the first time ever and you can't really figure out why, you're that drunk.  
  
\----

 

The next morning you call Naomi, finally having a reason to have her phone number after bloody _years_ , and when she picks up you don't really knowwhere to start, so you just say, "You better take her back."  
  
"Katie?" Naomi asks, sounding fuzzy as hell, like you just woke her up.  
  
"No, Cat fucking Deeley," you respond and then roll your eyes when she snorts. "Yes, it's me, you stupid twat, and you better take her back."  
  
"Are you finally done making her choose between us, then?" Naomi asks after a beat, punctuating it with a massive yawn.  
  
"If she's finally done making me choose between you and them," you respond and Naomi laughs softly.  
  
"Well, good."  
  
You hate admitting it, but: "You're fucking mental, you know, for putting it to her like that. For all you fucking know I could've made her stay here, never see you again."  
  
"You're not seventeen anymore, Katie," Naomi says after a moment. "You haven't been like that in a long time, I don't think."  
  
"It was still bloody stupid and risky," you tell her, annoyed that she's not just agreeing with you.  
  
"Well, I _am_ a dumb cunt, aren't I?" Naomi asks after a moment and for the first time, ever, you think maybe you could get along with her.  
  
You're in the middle of thinking up something appropriately sarcastic to respond with when Effy hollers something about shampoo at you, and you yellback, "Give me a second, babes" without thinking.  
  
Naomi stays curiously silent for a long second, and then tentatively asks, "Was that--"  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake," you sigh, and then just go over to the bathroom and get some new shampoo out of the storage cabinet before holding it aroundthe shower curtain until Effy takes it.  
  
"Thanks," she says, muffled by water.  
  
"Whatever," you respond before slipping out again, closing the door behind you, and then sit down on the sofa while waiting for Naomi to saysomething.  
  
"Well," she finally manages. "I don't even really know where to start on that."  
  
"She's your friend, isn't she? Was? Whatever," you say, sullenly, and then steel yourself. "And besides, it's none of your fucking business."  
  
"No, of course not, Katie. Shag who you like. It's just a bit absurd," Naomi says, and then laughs. "God. Does Emily know?"  
  
"Why don't you just call _her_ , and you can talk all about it," you snipe back and she laughs again before you hang up.  
  
Only a few minutes later does it occur to you that you probably should've told her that you're _not_ shagging Effy, and you spend the rest of the day wondering why you didn't.  
  
\----  
  
James stops by the gym and glares at you until you flip him off and he just rolls his eyes. He's such a fucking copy of you sometimes it's almost ridiculous, but at least you've got _something_ good in common, and by the time you head to your parents' for lunch he's perfectly normal to you again.  
  
Emily isn't quite as okay when she calls, and in fact sounds like she's on the verge of losing it all over again. "You're _fucking_ her?"  
  
"What?" you say, baffled, and then sigh. "No, fuck--your girlfriend's got a fucking overactive imagination, yeah. Of course I'm not. I'm not fucking gay."  
  
She doesn't say anything in response and it makes you feel guilty even though you are most _definitely_ not fucking anyone.  
  
"Where was she sleeping before James fixed up her bed?"  
  
"Ems," you cut in, abruptly. "Mind your own fucking business, yeah? And besides, I thought the issue was that she tried to kill me; I don't see how whether or not I'm fucking her like, changes anything about that."  
  
"Well, of course that's the issue," Emily responds after a beat, sounding incredibly defensive. "I just, I don't know, it's all just incredibly strange andsomehow I think it would make more sense if you _were_ fucking her."  
  
You pause at that. "What the fuck?"  
  
"Well, yeah, people in love are rather demented."  
  
"Wait, how did we fucking get to--first I'm shagging her, now we're--" you splutter and then take a deep breath. "Are you high? I'm not _fucking in love_ with Effy Stonem."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're something," Emily says after a long moment. "And I'm not saying that because Naomi is a moron. Katie, you _hit_ me."  
  
"Whatever. Sorry, I guess," you say, trying to sound contrite even though you'd like to slap her some more just for this fucking nonsense conversation.  
  
"No, I don’t--” Emily says and then pauses. “Don’t you get it? The only other person you've ever hit anyone for is me.” She starts to say something else but you cut her off.  
  
"You're fucking _mental_ ; clearly all that muffmunching has like, addled you in some way. She's my bloody roommate, okay? And a friend. A good friend. Fucking forgive me for caring about her, but she was around when you couldn't be arsed, so I'd hit you again if you--whatever," you say, and then try tocalm down a little because abstractly, you know you're not doing yourself any favors.  
  
"All right," Emily relents, finally, and then snorts. "I hear you and Naomi are bonding, by the way."  
  
"Not in this life," you respond and hang up.  
  
Effy's cutting up a courgette in the kitchen when you get home and just nods at you in acknowledgment for a change, as opposed to snarkily asking about your day. You get a beer from the fridge and then slump against it.  
  
"Rough day?" she finally asks, when she's washing her hands and the knife.  
  
"Emily thinks we're in love," you respond, and she fumbles the knife before looking at you with the most unexpected, astonished look on her face. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too."  
  
She starts laughing maybe one second before you do, and it makes you feel a little bit better, but only if you're not looking at her. You have no idea what the fuck that means.  
  
\----  
  
Your system, which is what it is even if neither of you call it that, works like this:  
  
You wake up first and start the coffee maker; then go take a shower while Effy drags herself out of bed and makes breakfast. By the time you're done, there'll be coffee on the table waiting for you along with either some toast or something with eggs, depending on how quickly she managed to wake up,and you'll pass her in the hallway when she's on her way to go shower. You don't speak until you're on your second cup of coffee and halfway done with the paper, because she'll sit down across from you then and ask for the other half which she slowly browses through while eating whatever shemade for herself (usually less food and some fruit).  
  
You head off to work when you're done with the rest and she spends most of the morning in her room doing whatever it is she does, translates or edits or whatever, and then around lunch time she'll call and ask if you need anything from the store if it's a Monday, Wednesday or Friday, or what genreyou're in the mood for on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which are movie nights.  
  
[You once suggested that you just do a big shop on Saturdays but she rolled her eyes and said, "I'd never fucking leave the house, Katie; give me abreak."]  
  
You come home somewhere between 5 and 6 where, two days a week, she'll have already prepared dinner, or the remaining days of the week, she'llhave put out what you need to prepare. [She has an uncanny knack for predicting when you'll be late and not once have you been too tired to cook, which is nice.] Sometimes, she's still working; other times, almost asleep on the sofa with _Ready Steady Cook_ on in the background, because Effy isthe skinniest person you know who loves eating.  
  
After dinner you watch the soaps, and then either a movie or whatever's on, though more often than not lately you've gotten out a book and just curledup on one end of the couch while she flicked through channels before settling on something on the Discovery Channel or National Geographic, or whatever. If it's something about gross animals doing gross shit, you usually stop reading after the twentieth description of teeth and intestines, andwill start watching before kicking her in the ribs and complaining about her taste in television, after which she rolls her eyes and changes it over toLiving TV with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.  
  
Sometimes, you still get drunk, but not all that often anymore. It's usually just _a_ drink. If even. And then, when you start getting tired, you threaten tokick her ass and she'll get up with a grin and get the cards; you've stopped playing Pusoy Dos exclusively and are now adding Speed into the mix, which you are about eighty times worse at and twice as competitive about as she is, and you lose until you scowl at her and she mocks you.  
  
You sometimes fall asleep mid-game, when things are actually rather evenly matched up and neither of you wants to concede defeat, and then wakeup the next morning on a stack of cards. One morning, you wake up to find the Queen of Hearts on her chest, and your laughter wakes her up.  
  
All of it is ridiculously domestic but then that's what you excel at, really, and it's nice living with someone who doesn't fucking get all up in your space like Emily used to, but is just kind of there and like, helpful and whatever. [You've started cleaning up after yourself in the bathroom a little bit moreafter a pointed stare from Effy at a towel in the hallway and well, whatever, if that's all it takes things are fine.]  
  
What isn't so much okay:  
  
When Effy steals your half of the paper, you get a whiff of her soap and rather than thinking, what is that, I want it, you think, it smells ridiculously good on her, and then frown at yourself without saying anything. She blinks at the look on your face and you just shake your head, pass it back.  
  
One day, she squirts a ketchup smiley face on your omelette and you roll your eyes before eating it, which she observes with a grin. The next day, it'sa heart with an arrow drawn through it, and she watches for your reaction, which is ninety levels of _what the fuck_ until she leaves the room, and youdon't manage to eat it until it's cold.  
  
Sometimes, you come home and she's already cut up whatever veg you're cooking, and just notes as much blandly without taking her eyes off the TV,and you almost, _almost_ walk over and kiss her on the head for doing it because you're bloody exhausted.  
  
The last straw is waking up with the Joker in your mouth. You're pretty sure she put it there, judging by the quirk of her lips when you blink your eyes open, but you have no fucking idea what it means, other than that you almost roll over on top of her and--what?  
  
\----  
  
"I'm _not_ fucking Effy," you snap into Emily's voicemail and then hang up immediately afterwards.  
  
She doesn't call back, and it's probably for the best.  
  
\----  
  
"Spanish bullshit or action?" Effy asks at noon.  
  
"Romance," you respond, and she pauses for a moment.  
  
" _Really_?"  
  
"Yes, I'm in the mood for a fucking romcom," you say, and then get defensive about it which is stupid, really, since you're a big fucking girl and thegenre was pretty much _invented_ for girls like you.  
  
"All right..." Effy says, slowly. "Does it have to be something recent?"  
  
"Just fucking get what you like, Effy," you snap at her and then hang up. Mark looks up from his desk in surprise and you scowl at him. "What, sorry, I'm just fucking cranky. It's fucking _hot_ in here. We need some bloody air-conditioning or something."  
  
"Well, guess who can talk to the boss about that," he says with a hesitant smile.  
  
You don't smile back because _everyone_ is getting on your last nerve.  
  
\----  
  
You can't believe you sat through three fucking hours of this, or well, close to it, and stare at Effy until she blinks at you in surprise.  
  
"What," she finally asks.  
  
"What the _fuck_ was that?"  
  
"Worse than Spanish bullshit, apparently," she responds dryly and then frowns. "What, it was funny, it had romance..."  
  
"They fucking ended up with other people! Did you not see the same movie I just did? What the fuck, Effy, how was that fucking romantic?"  
  
Effy purses her lips. "Well, he wrote a bloody screenplay to fix their relationship. That's pretty--"  
  
"Yeah, but he _didn't_. And then he fucking settled. For someone else."  
  
Effy blinks. "He was happy. Did you not hear the end narration?"  
  
"Whatever," you sigh and kick the coffee table out of the way before storming off to your room. "Last time you're fucking picking a movie. Jesus Christ."  
  
Effy knocks on your door hours later, and when you finally get over yourself long enough to open it, there's a copy of _The Princess Bride_ with a post-it on it saying _take # 2_ on the floor.  
  
You don't pick it up and fuck off to work before she even wakes up then next day, and then wonder what the hell is wrong with you.  
  
\----  
  
Your period starts a day later.  
  
You buy Effy a pint of Pralines & Cream and two tickets to see some ridiculous Italian arthouse movie that's playing in town and stick them on herdesk right before you're off to work, when she's taking a shower.  
  
When you get home, she's in a ball on the sofa, staring at you pensively.  
  
"You know, it's normally the person _on_ the rag that craves the ice cream. Not their unfortunate cohabitant," she says, after a moment.  
  
"Whatever," you respond and sit down next to her. "Fucking give it back to me, then, if you don't want it.  
  
She smiles.  
  
You watch _The Princess Bride_. It's stupid, and fucking beautiful.  
  
\----  
  
Your mum takes you out for a mani and a pedi a few days later and then suggests that maybe, it's time to dye your hair a different color.  
  
"You're getting a bit old for something that flashy, Katie," she says and you blink at her.  
  
"I'm--what?"  
  
"It's making you look tarty. Perhaps that's why--"  
  
"Oh, stop talking," you say and then almost get up except there's rubbers between your toes and you'd have to step over the podiatrist.  
  
"Don't be rude," your mum admonishes you. "I'm just telling you, there are plenty of attractive men at the gym and it would not kill you to look your very best for them."  
  
You go home scowling so hard that Effy notes with a laugh that your beauty treatment was supposed to _remove_ wrinkles, not create more, and you flipher off before relating your mother's latest brainwave regarding your mating techniques.  
  
"Stupid," Effy says, finishing off the last bit of her ice-cream (which she took almost a week to finish, and you'd kill for that level of moderation because it would mean not going to the bloody gym anymore). "You wouldn't be you anymore."  
  
You look at her with a bit of surprise until she offers you the spoon and you shake your head.  
  
"Sometimes, I swear to God you're the only person I know who understands me," you tell her, hours later, because you've still not stopped thinking it.  
  
Effy just rolls her eyes. "Whatever."  
  
"No, I mean that."  
  
"Well, I did have bits of your brain on my hands once," Effy says after a long moment and then snorts and ducks away when you kick at her shin.  
  
\----  
  
You dream about Emily and Naomi getting, like, married. Naomi's in a bloody tuxedo, with her hair slicked back like that model from that George Michael video that you can't remember the name of, and looks ridiculous but also like, good. Your sister's in a dress of some kind; tight and white, andthen with a purple sash, because it's your dream and apparently your subconscious still hasn't come to terms with red and purple clashing, or whatever, or maybe because it's the gay color.  
  
There's like a priest or something, a vicar maybe, and he's holding out a pink triangle that they swear to and then they exchange rings and kiss, andyou feel someone grab your hand when everyone gets up to start applauding them.  
  
"Not now, babe," you say, automatically, and then watch as the bouquet sails in your general direction. Your mum yells "Go get it, Katie" somewhere behind you and it propels you into action, until you've shoved some girl in front of you--who looks a lot like Panda, actually, when you think about it--aside and then feel someone wrap arms around your waist while you stretch out, claw the thing out of the air.  
  
"Good," you hear, and then finally turn your head to see Effy. "You'd look rather ridiculous in a tux, so I'm glad you caught it instead of me."  
  
"Whatever," you respond, and then she smiles at you.  
  
You wake up bathed in sweat and almost fall out of bed trying to get away from her, even though she's just lying on her back and like, breathing, with ahand curled up on her chest.  
  
\----  
  
You fuck Mark in the staff bathroom after work. It's all right, just like it's been all those other times.  
  
Effy's made cottage pie and you can smell it as soon as you step in the door, and you're absolutely fucking starving and she is just turning into abetter cook with every bloody day she spends in the kitchen, so you're sure it'll be delicious. Like it always is.  
  
"Hey, it'll be done in about ten minutes," she says, followed immediately by, "Pepper, pick the bloody green pepper, who the hell would want to--oh, _audience_ " and you feel something inside of you just dissolve at it.  
  
"Can you turn it off for a bit? I really need a shower."  
  
"Yeah, sure," she says, before looking at you with raised eyebrows. "Didn't manage at the gym?"  
  
"No," you say shortly, and don't look at her again on your way to the bathroom.  
  
\----  
  
"Do you ever think about getting married?" you ask after dinner, having a third beer that you probably shouldn't have because you're hot and tired andjust, fucking insane, or something.  
  
Effy snorts. "To _who_ , exactly?"  
  
"No, I mean, like, generally. Dresses and stuff."  
  
Effy twists her lips. "Not really, no. Not really my thing."  
  
"Yeah, I thought as much."  
  
\----

 

The next day, you conclude you're just coming down with something (other than your period) because by mid-day, your head feels like it's going toexplode.  
  
You ask Susan to take over your spinning class--handed over courtesy of your father who commented on your glutes in a way that you would rather never think about again--and head home early, stopping by Boots for some fucking ibuprofen on the way, and then pour yourself a glass of water in thekitchen and fumble with the strip, trying to pop a pill out.  
  
The first one rolls into the sink and you mutter "fucking hell" before cracking out a second one.  
  
That's when you hear it.  
  
It's not very loud, or anything, but it's definitely not the telly, or the radio, or anything else unless Effy's like, in her room watching porn on the internet, which _almost_ makes you laugh, until you hear it again, and you can't possibly pretend it isn't her.  
  
Something inside you twists at the idea of her touching herself and you feel a burst of panic come on, punctuate your headache even further, andyou’ve got to get out.  
  
You sit out on the front steps with a bottle of water and take two more ibuprofen and then collapse against the door. She finds you there, sound asleep, an hour later, on her way out to buy some fags.  
  
"Fuck, Katie," you hear her say without opening your eyes. She puts a hand on your forehead and you can think about only one thing before she's propped you up (sort of) and ushered you inside.  
  
It's not your headache. You don't understand _why_ it's not your headache, but then you remember that fucking thought you had a while ago about her inthe desk chair and yeah, well, _obviously_ you're thinking about her hand, and where it's been, and God, it’s not normal that you care, that you can’t stop picturing it; that it’s making you—  
  
Your face is so fucking red by now that she actually asks if you've got a fever before you shake your head.  
  
She gets you a cold compress and a glass of iced tea, which is apparently better for dehydration than water or something, and you don't even bother telling her that you're not dehydrated or much of anything else because she's perching next to you on the sofa, looking at you with such blatant concern that you can barely even feel your head throb anymore.  
  
"Will you be okay for a few?" she asks, and you remember she was on her way out the door, that's why she found you.  
  
You nod silently, and discover only about two minutes thereafter that the internet isn't _always_ full of shit; you've yet to try the massage, but an orgasm definitely helps with a migraine.  
  
You've only just about pulled your hands out of your knickers by the time she gets back, and know you must look ridiculously guilty but she just looks at you as close to pityingly as Effy gets, really, and then says, "I hear massages help. Is that true?"  
  
"I'm fine," you stammer and after a second she nods, just strokes your hair and gets up.  
  
"I picked up some instant chicken soup. That's what you get for sick people, right?"  
  
You hate that she has to ask, and then love that she came up with it all on her own, even if it's bloody stupid and you think chicken soup tastes likeboiled socks most of the time. "Yeah. Thanks."  
  
"Whatever," she says and you close your eyes, wondering when that word stopped being absolutely meaningless.  
  
\----  
  
You refuse to masturbate for a week because it's _not normal,_ what you did that afternoon.  
  
Then, you realize you can't just never have sex again--so you try to get yourself off, and you do whatever you can to not think about anything you _shouldn't_ be thinking about. You barely even get wet for three mornings in a row, giving up after a few minutes of totally pointless stroking, until on thefourth day your wrist starts cramping up _again_ and you're so sore and frustrated that you let your brain go where it wants to for just a few seconds.  
  
You have absolutely no trouble recalling what little you heard, then assign a visual to it, and come within seconds, so hard that you end up with a killer dead leg for your efforts and almost fall over in the shower.  
  
It opens a floodgate.  
  
\----  
  
What's quickest:  
  
Effy with her legs on the desk, head tipped back into a moan, stroking herself roughly.  
  
What's best:  
  
Effy on her hands and knees, touching herself while doing _something_ to-- (and you've never actually had to picture it long enough to fill in any of themore ominous blanks, there, thank God).  
  
What's most distressing, given that it gets you off:  
  
Effy looking at you, right before she comes.  
  
You wank at least three times a day for a week in the hopes of getting it out of your system and not blushing furiously every time Effy so much as like, picks up a coffee mug; when showering in the morning, in staff bathroom at lunch, and during the not-at-all-obvious second shower you've started taking after work.  
  
You manage to rein it in a little after that because _Jesus_ , you're not James, and stop feeling guilty when it's dwindled down to just once a day or once every two days, because, whatever. It's not like you're _doing_ anything. And it'll probably go away.  
  
\----  
  
Effy licks off her spoon after dinner; you've made some strawberries and cream and threw in some Haagen-Dasz for her just because she was a good sport while you had your, _whatever_ , hormonal week/month, and it's all good, until she licks off her spoon and makes such an incredibly satisfied noise that you feel your knickers soak immediately.  
  
"I'll be right back," you mumble; touch yourself the minute you're even in your own bedroom, leaning heavily against the door, and then slide down it rather aimlessly when you're done.  
  
She's got to stop sleeping in your bed while this is happening to you, and it will probably go away, so it's not like it's for like, forever, or something.  
  
\----  
  
You lie awake at night wondering why the idea of her never sleeping in your bed again bothers you.  
  
Look at her when she's asleep, and feel something much more disturbing than like, _whatever_ the fuck the sexual stuff is.  
  
You get up and go to sleep in her bed, and then fuck yourself hard and fast when you realize that the sheets smell like her, more so than your own do.  
  
\----  
  
You call Emily.  
  
You don't say anything this time; just hang up after a few seconds of voicemail.  
  
\----  
  
Maybe, seeing other people will help.  
  
You try that exactly once.  
  
It doesn't. [And people frequenting your parents' gym are exactly as dumb as you've always thought they were, which makes you hate your job just a little bit more.]  
  
\----  
  
Even though you feel like you're doing to die around her constantly, you still can't wait to get home in the evenings. It's _horrible_.  
  
She makes the lasagna again and you pick at it distractedly before she frowns.  
  
"What, is it not moan-worthy this time?"  
  
"No, it's delicious," you say, and then actually taste it for the first time, even though you've taken like five bites already. "Oh, _God_ , it's even better. What did you change?"  
  
She smiles mysteriously. "Chef's secret."  
  
"Praisehound," you say after doing the dishes, and she just smirks before flipping you off.  
  
"Whatever. You're the only person I cook for and you are a fucking _bitch_ when you're unhappy, so. Might as well try to keep you satisfied, eh Katie?" she says with a faint smile.  
  
It's _horrible._  
  
\----  
  
You still can't decide if you actually want to nail her.  
  
Or if it's just that she's there, and like, pretty or whatever.  
  
Or maybe that last part doesn't even matter; maybe it's just that she's _nice_ to you.  
  
It's the stupidest fucking thing you've ever thought.  
  
\----  
  
It takes about a month, but you learn to live with it, and when she falls asleep on your shoulder after watching _Newsnight_ one day, you put an arm around her shoulders without thinking but other than that it's cool, really, because it's not like you instantly got embarrassingly wet or anything (which is good) and you don't have the urge to like, molest her (also good), and it's just kind of nice, sitting there.  
  
So you're getting a handle on it, finally, and that probably means that the compulsive wanking while thinking about Effy wanking is also going to stop naturally, at which point you will find yourself a boyfriend because clearly, not having one _has_ actually driven you insane.  
  
Effy blinks up at you with sleepy eyes about half an hour later and then smiles. "Sorry. Drooled on your shirt, didn't I."  
  
"Whatever," you say in response and look at her for just a second too long, fingers itching to brush her hair out of her eyes, but then she sits up and stretches and like, _everything_ that you didn't think was happening anymore happens, and you just sigh.  
  
"Tired?"  
  
"You have no idea," you respond and resign yourself to it, to feeling like this, whatever it is.  
  
\----  
  
On Sundays, sometimes, you head out to the park together; bring a book and just read on a bench for a few hours while she smokes silently and sitswith her eyes closed. You sometimes find yourself staring at her almost unwillingly, but the rest of the time it's just kind of nice.  
  
"I'm glad we're friends," you say, on one of them, and she doesn't really respond, but it's fine. You talk enough for both of you, most of the time.  
  
\----  
  
On other Sundays, she heads to AA meetings with her mum. You offered once to come along, and then realized that might be inappropriate, but shejust said thanks but that's all right.  
  
You don't know why, but every time she comes back and looks no worse for the wear you're relieved.  
  
\----  
  
You meet your sister and Naomi at their apartment, which you've refused to see all these years, and then almost start crying when you see there's an entire dresser that's just full of pictures of yourself and Emily from college, as if you weren't a total cunt to her back then and she has reasons to have anything like that in her house.  
  
"Where's Effy?" Naomi asks, over tea, and you almost spit the sip in your mouth back out.  
  
"How the fuck should I know? I'm not her fucking keeper." Emily and Naomi exchange a glance at that and your heckles are like, up to the ceiling within an instant. "Jesus fucking Christ, will you two _stop_ with that? We were living together just _fine_ until you had to--" you start saying unthinkingly and then stop talking abruptly when you realize what you've said.  
  
Naomi looks at you surprised but doesn't say anything. Emily looks at you with concern but doesn't say anything either.  
  
"She's probably out like, fucking some guy or whatever. How the fuck should I know what she does when I'm not around," you mutter, sullenly, and things are awkwardly silent until Naomi clears her throat and starts talking about the Greens and how they might actually have a shot at the nextlocals. It takes you another minute to tell her that they're still a bloody stupid single-issue party and won't ever get anywhere, and thankfully you'resoon arguing about something senseless until Emily tells you both to shut up.  
  
The look of concern reappears when you're about to leave, and she says something totally inappropriate like, "If you ever want to talk about it--"  
  
"There's nothing to talk about. Effy's not gay," you snap at her, and then follow it a second later with, "And _neither am I_."  
  
She hugs you a second later, and fuck, you've missed her, even if she _has_ ruined just about everything _again_.  
  
\----  
  
"How are the lesbians?" Effy asks late at night, knocking on your door after coming back from wherever.  
  
"Gay," you mumble.  
  
Effy laughs a second later. "That'll help."  
  
You can't stay mad at her either, even though it's technically all her fault, with her stupid wanking in her stupid office chair.  
  
"What are you fucking standing around for, then?"  
  
She shrugs. "Just giving you some space. You haven't seen her in a long time. Not like this, I mean."  
  
"It was fine. Bring back a bottle of vodka, will you?"  
  
There's something inherently contradictory about the last two things you said, but she just nods and gets the alcohol before crawling onto the bed nextto you.  
  
\----  
  
The day after it happens, when you're aimlessly browsing in Oxford Street with Emily, you can't stop thinking that there should've been a sign; that somehow, you should've been paying more attention, or something, and you would've known this was going to happen, but it literally comes out of nowhere.  
  
Effy goes to get her mum for the regular AA meeting, and you have a lie-in for a change; wank while thinking about something other than her for a change, to little success, and then just try to go back to sleep.  
  
You wake up when the front door slams, and put on some trackies before looking into the living room curiously, when you see Effy like, crumpled against the fucking front door, barely holding herself upright.  
  
Then she looks up at you and your heart lodges in your throat.  
  
You're on your knees in front of her faster than you ever remember moving anywhere and then are almost afraid to touch her because--fuck, there is no fucking way to tell if this is just her face, or if there's more that you can't see, until she slumps down the rest of the way, onto her knees, and collapses forward into your arms.  
  
She doesn't cry.  
  
You do.  
  
\----  
  
You have no idea how long you've been sitting there but your knees are fucking killing you and Effy still hasn't stopped shaking, and you have finally gotten yourself to a point where you feel confident that you can, at least, stroke her hair while she's clutching at your t-shirt so tightly that her hands have turned white.  
  
You don't think you've ever been silent for this long and you don't think you like it but you can't, honestly, think of anything to say, and then Effy's phone rings, breaking the silence abruptly. She stiffens--even more--when she hears it and you fumble in her purse for it, see that it's her mother calling, and then throw it at the wall so hard that it shatters into at least four different pieces.  
  
Effy sighs. You have no idea what it means, but find yourself saying that you'll buy her a new one, like it's her fucking _phone_ that matters here, and she seems to think it's just as idiotic as you do because something close to laughter bubbles up, but it's more like a sob.  
  
"Shh," you say and watch as she straightens up a little bit more, hesitantly touches her own eye before flinching again and you go, "Fuck, I'm a fucking idiot; we should get a steak on that or something, yeah?" and she just looks at you the best she can before trying to smile, or something, and her fucking lip just breaks right open again. "Oh, Effy, no," you say and she blinks at you twice more and then does start crying.  
  
You bite your lip to not say things that you're not meant to say, that you don't think people tell their best friends, but then you think about Emily and if this were here and they bubble out of you unexpectedly, until you finally shift around enough to sit back against the door, legs out straight in front ofyou, and she's in the crook of your arm with a wince, burrowing into you with the side of her face that isn't swelling so fucking much that you can't even look at it.  
  
You sit like that for hours, and by the end of it you've told her that you love her at least twenty times, but it makes absolutely no difference, until she finally falls asleep and you sigh and close your eyes. It doesn't take long until you're nodding off as well, but not before tightening your arms around her, because the last thing you want to do is accidentally move your hands and wake her up that way.  
  
\----  
  
You wake up alone.  
  
Or, at least, you wake up sitting on the floor alone, because she's clearly still in the flat, or there's someone else going through all of her belongings. She's not being particularly quiet and you get up to see what the fuck is happening because it sounds more like she's tearing her room apart than just--you have no idea, really, except she shouldn't be doing _anything_ because she could barely fucking sit up hours ago and you think she might've cracked a fucking rib or something, and then you flinch and rub at your eyes again because putting it that way makes it sound like she fucking did thisto _herself_.  
  
It's only when you see the suitcase that you know.  
  
"No," you say, softly, and then repeat it when she doesn't look at you. "Ef, _no_."  
  
"What," she says, dully, the sound muffled by her swollen lips and you hurt for her, so much that you can barely even stand watching her do-- _this_ , whatever it is. You take a big step forward and take the clothing she's holding from her hands and drop it on the floor.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" you ask, not even--it's not angry, but you just don't get it. "For fuck's sake, you shouldn't be up on your feet, yeah; get in bed and I'll get you some ice, some painkillers or something."  
  
"I don't _need_ ice or painkillers," Effy says, still refusing to look at you, and then bends over with a whimper for the clothing you just dropped.  
  
"The fuck you don't--God, babes, you can barely even--" you say and just like that the tears are back. "Will you just fucking stop? What the fuck doyou think you're going to do anyway?"  
  
"I'm going to leave," she says, exhaling painfully on the last word, and then shoves the t-shirts into her suitcase before leaning heavily on her hands.  
  
"You're _what_?"  
  
She looks up at you halfway, peers at you through a curtain of hair and fuck, her fucking eyes, so incredibly wounded and defiant that you take a step back involuntarily.  
  
"I'm leaving. I'm done here," she repeats, and then slowly straightens up again, until she's up on her feet, clutching her left side and fuck, you rub atyour eyes because she's in so much trouble and she's not making any sense.  
  
"What, like, on a trip or--what the fuck are you saying, Effy?"  
  
She almost smiles, just ends up clenching her jaw instead. "You're not this slow, Katie."  
  
"You're not this fucking _stupid_ , either. What the fuck--you're in no state to go anywhere."  
  
"I'll heal," she says, plainly, and then takes a tentative step back towards her dresser before closing her eyes and grimacing.  
  
"Yeah, the fuck you will. In bed, in our fucking _house_. If you honestly think that I'm going to let you--"  
  
" _Let_ me?" she repeats, sounding astounded. "What the fuck are you now? My--"  
  
"Shut up," you interject, and it's barely a whisper but she looks back at you and looks ashamed.  
  
"This isn't your business, Katie."  
  
"You're my fucking roommate; you're on the goddamned lease, in what fucking universe isn't this my business?" you snap at her, and then bend over and take some clothing out of the suitcase and drop it onto her bed. "You're not fucking--"  
  
"I'll pay the rent until I've found someone to replace me, if that's what you want," Effy says and she's so goddamned rational about it that somethinginside of you just snaps.  
  
"God, what the fuck is _wrong with you_? I don't fucking _want_ a new roommate, I want you to stop being such a fucking idiot and just let me take care ofyou," you yell at her.  
  
"Why?" she asks plainly, and then touches her lip, which has started bleeding again a few seconds ago, stretching out on 'replace'.  
  
"Why _what?_ " you ask, exasperated.  
  
"Why do you fucking care so much about what I do?"  
  
Your jaw drops. "Are you fucking kidding me?"  
  
"You're not my fucking sister, Katie. You're not my _girlfriend_. We're just friends. What the fuck do you care if I--"  
  
"Right," you snap, shutting her up. "Right, I'm just a fucking friend. Well, then, fine, Effy. See if I fucking care, just fuck off _right_ back to Spain, spend another four fucking years avoiding your issues and running. It's what you're bloody best at, isn't it?"  
  
Her eyes narrow dangerously. "I wouldn't go there if I were you."  
  
"Oh, you're _such_ a fucking coward, Effy," you spit at her, and then look away only when you glance at her face, see how fucking swollen her eye is, and you don't want to do anything _like_ what you're doing but you just can't stop. You're about one second away from throttling her again, and you know it--dig your nails into your palms to just _stop_ it because this isn't who you want to be. Not with her.  
  
" _I'm_ a coward? Says the girl who let her family bully her into giving up her whole life. Sad, bitter Katie; can't even--"  
  
"Shut up," you say, and then watch as she seems to deflate almost instantly. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"  
  
"I just want _out_ , okay," she says, with a sigh, and this is almost worse than when she was angry, because you don't know how to stop her from doing this at all; it's almost like you're a bad person now, for wanting her to stay.  
  
"Yeah, whatever," you say, and try not to cry as you sit down on her bed and watch her drop a few dresses in her suitcase.  
  
She stops after the second slow walk back and forth and looks at you. "I just--I need--We'll stay in touch, okay?"  
  
It's the most awkward thing that's ever come out of Effy's mouth and you feel your hands start to shake at it. "No."  
  
"What?" she says, sounding surprised.  
  
"No. We _won't_. You won't, because you're shit at letters--I fucking pay attention, Effy--and I won't because if you fucking leave, I'm not going to sit around and wait to see if you'll ever show up again, okay?" She blinks at you and you swallow hard. "If you fucking leave now--"  
  
"What," she says, flatly. "You'll what."  
  
You shake your head because you can't say it.  
  
"Come on then, Katie," she says, and her voice shakes on your name. "Give me a fucking reason to not go, then. Other than your bloody rent."  
  
Your stomach convulses painfully but you still can't say anything. You sit and stare at her floor, her fucking suitcase, for at least a minute, and youcan't make the words come out.  
  
"I think you should leave now," Effy finally says, slowly, "and let me pack. Okay?"  
  
There's nothing else to say to that, and after getting your keys and your jacket, you leave without looking back at her room, because you have no fucking idea what you'll do, what stupid idiotic thing you'll do if you see her once more. It's a toss-up between slapping her in the face and--  
  
You're already crying by the time you call Emily, who promises to get you at St. Pancras as soon as she can.  
  
\----

 

By the time you make it back to their flat--empty, since Naomi's still at work--you have calmed down enough to explain stuff to Emily, at least whatyou _can_ explain, who of course immediately jumps to various wrong conclusions again.  
  
"Did she do something to you?" she asks, and it's kindly but still so fucking misguided that you sniffle angrily and try not to like, get upset all overagain.  
  
" _No_ , you stupid--" you manage and then take a deep breath, rub at your eyes futilely until Emily hands you a napkin. You blow your nose.  
  
"But it's something to do with her, right?" Emily asks tentatively and you nod after a second.  
  
It's not any of your business, but it's not like Effy will ever see Emily again, and Emily knows how to keep secrets better than anyone so you just take a deep breath and try to urge down the wave of sick that you feel come up every time you think about what Effy's feeling right now, how she's doing.  
  
"Her mum's an alcoholic." That part's pretty easy, and Emily's face gears into sympathetic almost immediately.  
  
"Oh, that--wow," she says, and then her eyes grow distant. "That explains--"  
  
"Yeah," you interject because you don't want to hear about fucking _Spain_ , or fucking college. "Anyway, she's--things are fine when she's not, when she's sober, but when--"  
  
Emily waits patiently for you to say something else but you just shake your head, and then finally whisper, "God, Ems, her face..."  
  
"Oh, Katie," she says almost immediately and then you avert your eyes when you see tears spring up in hers.  
  
"She's a good fucking person," you say after a long moment in which both of you try not to cry. "She doesn't--"  
  
"I'm sorry, okay?" Emily says and then reaches for your hand. You grab it and hold on tight for a long moment.  
  
\----  
  
Naomi finds you still sitting like that and for once doesn't seem to have any kind of smart-ass remark. Emily gets up and kisses the top of your head before following her into the bedroom, where they talk quietly for a long moment, and finally you hear Naomi say, " _Fine_ " and then they both come outagain.  
  
"Fancy getting incredibly pissed, Fitch?" Naomi asks after a beat, and you shrug because you don't really, but then you don't fancy much of anything else, either. "Got a bottle of tequila here that says I can drink you under the table."  
  
"Whatever," you say and then look at Emily, who bites her lip and looks between you and Naomi a few times before sighing.  
  
"I've got to go somewhere. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay, but like--" She takes a deep breath and then makes a face. "Please don't fucking kill each other, okay?"  
  
You snort even as you see Naomi roll her eyes, and after a few more seconds of looking at both of you warily, Emily grabs her keys and leaves.  
  
"How are you with beer pong, then?"  
  
You stare at her and she raises an eyebrow. "What are you, a fucking child?"  
  
".... or we could just take turns hitting the bottle," Naomi concedes, and sits down in front of you with an unopened bottle of Jose Cuervo.  
  
You stare at it for a long moment. "Got any cards?"  
  
"Dunno. I'll go have a look," Naomi says easily enough, leaving you alone with the tequila for just a moment.  
  
\----  
  
"You are absolutely retarded," you tell her and then put down a pair of twos. "There's only two of us; clearly I've got the twos, why would you sacrifice your aces like that?"  
  
She takes a shot and refills both of your glasses. "Whatever, I've constructed bloody rocket ships that were less complicated than this game."  
  
" _I_ learned how to play it quickly enough and I fucking, like, got hit in the head with a rock," you retort and Naomi just smiles before throwing down a full house. "... cunt. Are you just having me on?"  
  
"Nope. I wasn't even sure I could do this," Naomi says cheerfully, before sweeping up all the cards and pushing them your way. You take a shot and fuck, you're already pretty drunk, but not nearly drunk enough--not drunk enough to be able to close your eyes, anyway. "Effy taught you to play this, then?"  
  
"Yeah," you say, shortly, and throw down three nines.  
  
"I can see it, you know," Naomi says after sighing and pulling the cards towards her. "You and her."  
  
"Me and her what," you ask, flatly, and not without a bit of warning.  
  
"I don't know, Katie," she says, sounding remarkably sober. "You tell me."  
  
"Whatever," you mutter and throw down a pair of eights. You drink the next few rounds silently, until at least three thirds of the deck are on her side ofthe table, and since you haven't won a game since like, the only time Effy played drunk when you were still sober, you can't help a small smile.  
  
"Did she ask you to leave?" Naomi asks softly after a few more games that you play almost silently, the loud echo of the shot glasses on the table every time you slam them down the only sound, really, and you've almost forgotten she was even there, but fuck, she's about as subtle as your sister was about being gay.  
  
"I'll tell you what; you stop asking fucking questions, yeah, and I'll be sure to tell Emily that you were a _real help_ tonight."  
  
Naomi runs a hand through her hair and sighs, drops her chin onto her hand. "I'm not doing this because _Emily_ made me."  
  
"What, so you fucking care?"  
  
"'course not," she says, amiably enough. "But I'm stuck with you, and your moping is starting to irritate me, because I can't quite fucking figure out why you're sat in my kitchen as opposed to back at your house, giving her one hell of a hug."  
  
"It's none of your fucking business, Naomi," you respond but there's no real malice to it, for a change.  
  
"I know that, Katiekins. But, unlike your sister, I won't have a fucking heart attack if you tell me that, like, you got into a fight or something and Effy hityou again."  
  
You drop your cards and bang your palm down on the table. "God, she didn't fucking _hit me_ , okay? I didn't fucking hit her either. Will both of you just sodding--"  
  
"Okay, okay," Naomi interjects, holding up her hands in an apology. "Whatever. You know, I'd be less of a cunt about this if you just gave me something to go on."  
  
You don't say anything for a long moment and then reach for the bottle, pour yourself two shots in quick succession and then drop your face in your hands. "She told me to fucking go, okay," you mumble and Naomi doesn't say anything for a long time.  
  
"Because she wanted to be alone," she finally suggests and you shake your head.  
  
"No. Because she's fucking off to Spain or fuck knows where again, and I couldn't give her a reason to stay."  
  
"Ah," Naomi says and then falls silent. You can hear her gathering up the cards and then finally slump back in the chair, just stare at her for a few seconds.  
  
"What, you're not going to fucking tell me that it's like, not a big deal?"  
  
"What isn't?" Naomi asks and shoves the bottle back to your side of the table. You shake your head and leave it be.  
  
"Her leaving, like, whatever. I can get other roommates."  
  
Naomi tilts her head at you. "You're a bit fucking stupid, aren't you."  
  
"Fuck off," you respond, so weary that Naomi just smiles wryly and shakes her head.  
  
"Do you honestly think you're this fucking upset because your _roommate_ is leaving?"  
  
"No," you say and you have no idea why it sounds so, like, fucking prim, but it does. "She's also like, my friend, yeah. Probably my best friend."  
  
"Yeah," Naomi agrees and purses her lips. "So your best friend has something horrible happen to her, right, that makes her want to leave Bristol. Andyou're sat here, crying your eyes out."  
  
"Naomi, what is your fucking point," you finally just say.  
  
She takes a shot of tequila and then just stares at you. "Figure it out, Katie."  
  
\----  
  
You sleep on the couch. It's incredibly fucking uncomfortable and you wake up three times because you can't stop dreaming that you're taking a swingat Effy, and this time, you're the one holding the rock.  
  
You throw up at around three in the morning and are so fucking loudly ill that Naomi wakes up because of it and makes you some tea to settle your stomach.  
  
By the time morning comes, you're almost like, friends or something. It's incredibly uncomfortable, until she says, "I'm not making your bloody breakfast, okay. There's cereal in the cupboard and milk in the fridge."  
  
"Whatever," you say and then blink a few times against the light, before something occurs to you. "Hey, where the fuck is Emily?"  
  
Naomi shrugs. "She'll be back."  
  
"What, does she fuck off overnight often?" you ask, a little baffled.  
  
"When she needs to," Naomi responds and puts a bowl on the counter for you, pointing at it dramatically until you flip her off.  
  
\----  
  
When you're done taking a shower, you walk in on your sister and Naomi hugging fiercely in the kitchen, and Emily's sniffling or something. It feels invasive to stand around and watch it happen so you go into their bedroom and get some clothes out of Emily's dresser, shrug into them before noting that you're like, not even the same fucking size anymore, not really, and you have to trade her trousers for a skirt.  
  
When you go back out Emily seems to have pulled herself together some, whatever the hell happened, and when you open your mouth to say something, Naomi shakes her head at you, sharply.  
  
"Hey," Emily finally says, and conjures up a small smile out of nowhere. "Feeling any better?"  
  
"Your girlfriend's fucking retarded," you respond and Naomi just laughs and disappears into the kitchen.  
  
Emily smiles. "I always figured you two would eventually get on."  
  
"Ugh, don't fucking make me toss again," you say with a wince and then feel relieved when Emily's smile widens a little bit more, like whatever was so bad five minutes ago isn't so horrible now.  
  
"Fancy going shopping?"  
  
"Not really," you admit, but let her hustle you out of the apartment anyway.  
  
\----  
  
You're gone for almost five hours and when you get back, Naomi's waiting outside of their building with a wan look on her face.  
  
"All right?" Emily asks, looking concerned, and reaches up to touch her forehead. It reminds you of a moment you'd just as soon forget, now, and youlook away and wait for them to fucking get on with it, whatever it is.  
  
"Yeah, just--need some air," Naomi responds, sounding very strange indeed, and then looks at you. "Hey. Here's the key. We're going for a walk, okay? Be back soon."  
  
You take the key with a look at Emily, who looks just as confused for a moment, but then hands over her bags to you and grabs for Naomi's hands.You watch them walk off for a moment together and feel, whatever, _something_ at the sight, like they're still just in their own fucking universe even after all this time, but then lug the bags upstairs and into their apartment.  
  
You don't notice she's there until she says "hey", softly but suddenly enough to scare the shit out of you.  
  
You drop the bags, of course, and they spill everywhere, and she just sits there with her elbows on her thighs, looking at you without saying anything, face still totally fucked up and like, bruising _everywhere_.  
  
"What--" you start and then have to swallow hard. "Why--aren't you--shouldn't you be at some fucking airport or something by now?"  
  
"Yeah," she says after a moment. "I should."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So," Effy says and sits back slowly, exhaling through her teeth when her back meets the end of the sofa and you have to bite your tongue to not just rush over and like, fucking nurse her back to health or whatever but _you're_ not the one who did this; she is, and so you're damn well not doing anything. "Your sister stopped by last night."  
  
"She _what_?" you snap and then sigh, roll your eyes. "Of fucking course she did."  
  
"Yeah," Effy says, musing on it almost. "I think she was planning on yelling at me but then couldn't because of, well," and she points at her own face with a bit of a sardonic half-smile and it makes you ill, really, to see her joke about it.  
  
"Don't do that," you urge her harshly.  
  
"Mm," she says but then stops anyway, drops her hand back to her lap and just looks at you. "Instead, I got a big lecture about how you're a total moron but your heart's in the best place and that I should give you a chance."  
  
"A chance at _what_?"  
  
Effy smiles faintly. "Not being such a fucking moron."  
  
"Stop fucking--talking in like, fucking riddles or whatever, Effy, I am like _this_ close to throwing up again and God, you stupid twat, you didn't put ice on _anything_ , did you," you say, and then lean back against the door heavily when you realize it made absolutely no sense but it also put an end to youpretending not to give a fuck, in an almost ridiculous way.  
  
Effy clears her throat and then lowers her eyes, just looks at her lap. "Do you think it's normal?"  
  
"No, I don't fucking think--"  
  
"No, not this," Effy interjects, and then pauses. "The way we live together, I mean."  
  
That stops you could. "Well--what the fuck else would it be?"  
  
"You tell me, Katie," she says after a moment. "I didn't have the best examples growing up, but it sometimes feels a hell of a lot like we're--"  
  
" _Whatever_. So we work well together. It doesn't--" you start saying but you can't, really, get more than that past the lump in your throat.  
  
"Why don't I ever sleep in my own bed?" Effy asks, quietly, and then looks at you. "Honestly. We don't even drink that much anymore. I'm never too tired to take the twenty steps it takes to get to my own room. Why don't--"  
  
"I don't _know_ , okay," you say, because she's saying all the things you've refused to think about all this time and it's just--not like this, not when she's on her way to the bloody airport because you've seen the fucking suitcase by now, stood by the kitchen table. "You just _don't_. God, we'll stop it. Just fucking--come back to Bristol with me, and we'll stop it, okay? You can--I'll start making my own dinner or whatever. Just please don't--"  
  
"Katie," she says, quietly, stopping you from making an even bigger fool of yourself.  
  
" _What_ , God," you snap and then bite your lip because you're crying again, for fuck knows what reason this time.  
  
"Tell me that you want me there," she says, and then looks at you until you look away. "I know that things are... I just need to hear it, okay?"  
  
You cry silently for a few seconds and then hear, more than see, her get up. And then suddenly she's in front of you.  
  
"There's so many things that--" she says, softly, and then just sighs. "I don't want to go to Spain, okay. Or anywhere else, really. But you need to let me know that you want me to sleep in your bed. That I'm not just there because, whatever, it's how things ended up."  
  
She wipes at the tears on your cheeks and you shudder completely involuntarily and then finally manage to look at her, take a deep breath, and go forthe truth. "Of course I do, you sodding idiot. It took me three weeks to even call my brother to ask him to assemble yours."  
  
She blinks rapidly a few times and then tries to smile but you can see her lip and press your finger against it. "No, don't, please--it'll open again. God,you're such a fucking mess, Ef."  
  
Her lips still against your finger, and then kiss it. Tentatively. She blinks her eyes back open afterwards and you have some idea of what your face looks like because she almost laughs--her eyes smile, anyway, insofar as they can. "I don't know what I'm doing either."  
  
"Good," you exhale, slowly, and then tip your head back against the door. "God, I thought I was--I wanted to strangle you yesterday, honestly. Youhave no idea how close I came."  
  
"But you didn't," she says, and then forces you to look at her by cupping your cheek. "You never will, Katie. I know that."  
  
"Babe," you sigh, and then look down at your hands, a little helplessly. "I like, _really_ would like to give you a hug right now, but you broke a rib, didn'tyou, and I don't want to fucking crush you or hurt or you anything."  
  
"Nah, not broken," she says, valiantly, and then steps in just a little bit closer, until you have no choice but to move your arms around hers. "Just like, bruised."  
  
You've hugged many times before, and often with her in a significantly better state than this--barring the times where you ended up accidentally hugging because one of you got that fucking drunk and just tipped over--but it's never been quite like this, you think, and then feel her relax againstyou, with a slow rush of breath that gives you goosebumps everywhere.  
  
"No Spain, then," you say after a moment.  
  
She takes a step back and then reaches for her back pocket; pulls out two sheets of paper and gives them to you. "Maybe. But not by myself. Youshould put your passport someplace a little safer, by the way."  
  
"Shut up," you say, looking at the double-passenger ticket to Barcelona leaving in the evening, and then looking back at her. "You're--"  
  
"You said you'd love to see it someday. It would kill me if you did without me," she says, so plainly, like this is the kind of shit that you say to each other daily, and you find that suddenly, you don't give a flying fuck about the cut on her lip.  
  
"This is going to hurt," you warn her, and then pull her in closer, kiss her until she does, in fact, whimper, and you can taste the salty tang of blood on your tongue, but it doesn't really fucking matter when she's got her hands on your shoulders and is kissing back, distracting you so completely that the tickets to Barcelona flutter to the floor moments later and your arms wind around her back instead.  
  
\----

 

You don't honestly ever think you've kissed someone this slowly, this carefully; even the very first time you kissed, you were pissed on two pints ofStrongbow and you just went for it with tongue straight out of the gates, which made it rather gross and messy but all in all, a raving success, or soyou'd thought. Every kiss since then has built on that same assumption--that it's got to be deep to be real, or meaningful or whatever.  
  
Effy's dismantled that entire notion in about a minute, maybe a minute and a half, just by sliding her lips against yours, almost like a whisper becauseof course her lip's still totally fucked up and yet you can't remember ever feeling this involved in kissing before, like it really and truly will be _fine_ if itstops here, if this is all you'll ever do with her.  
  
She pulls away with a sigh after a long moment and then looks at you curiously for a moment before blowing some air up at her bangs, which are sofucking long that of course they don't budge, and you roll your eyes before reaching out and gently, without touching her cheek, smoothing a few strands of hair behind her ear.  
  
"I'm not gay," you then say, spectacularly, because for someone with no lez leanings you sure did just snog the hell out of another girl, even if it _is_ Effyand she's just, well, whatever.  
  
She snorts. "Yeah, okay, Katie."  
  
"Well, are _you_?" you ask, irritated beyond belief that she's making fun of you, like she didn't fuck twice as many boys in the entire time you knew her as you did.  
  
Effy shrugs. "I've dabbled."  
  
"What the fuck does that mean?" You cross your arms and glare at her. "And with who?"  
  
Effy shrugs. "Girl in Spain. It didn't mean anything, Katie."  
  
"Whatever," you say, crankily, and then bend down to pick the tickets back up. "Were you going back to see her, then?"  
  
"No," Effy says slowly and rolls her one capable eye. "I was going to stay with some friends until I figured out what else to do."  
  
"Fine," you say and then frown. "And now?"  
  
"I assumed," Effy says and then moves over to the kitchen table, sits down heavily, "that we'd find some place to stay together."  
  
"I didn't even--fuck, I need to like, call my dad and take time off work," you say, and then look at her with a bit of annoyance. "This is a spectacularly like, conceited plan. Like, oh, sure, Katie, just drop everything and fuck off to Barcelona with me, nobody will care."  
  
"Emily's called your dad and said that the both of you were going to Spain, as a surprise for--something, whatever," Effy says, tiredly, and then sighs. "If you don't want to come, Katie, then don't."  
  
You sigh and move into the kitchen, open the freezer. There's some prepackaged mince and you wrap it in a towel before handing it to her, moving her hand up to her face. "You're such a fucking idiot."  
  
"It's about a day too late for this," Effy says, blandly, but holds the package against her cheek anyway.  
  
"Whatever. It'll make _me_ feel better, okay?" you say, and then sit down across from her.  
  
You sit together silently for a bit and then Effy chuckles. "Emily will be so pleased that we're defrosting her dinner for her."  
  
You try to glare but start laughing after a few seconds as well, and then Effy puts her improvised cold compress down on the table and sticks out her hand, palm flat on the table. "Come to Spain with me, yeah? Next time, I'll give you some advance notice."  
  
Something inside you shifts at the casual way in which she says next time and you sigh before tangling your fingers together. "Yeah, okay."  
  
You're still sat like that when Emily and Naomi finally get back, peering around the corner of their own front door like they're in some sort of bloody French farce, and you bite the inside of your lip to not start laughing.  
  
"I don't know what the fuck you two were expecting, but we're both still alive," you then say with another squeeze to Effy's fingers, who looks up tiredlybut manages a faint smile.  
  
"Oh, that didn't worry me," Naomi says breezily. "I was just praying that you wouldn't be naked, because, well, we're only just getting to know each other again, aren't we?"  
  
Emily winces and elbows Naomi behind her, and Effy flips her off without blinking even as you feel yourself flush.  
  
"You're such a cunt, Naomi," you mumble and she just shrugs, looking oddly happy about being insulted.  
  
"Early dinner?" Emily asks after a moment and you think you might be able to eat now, but Effy just manages a wan smile and says, "As long as it's liquid."  
  
Emily and Naomi exchange a glance and with a small kiss, Naomi's out the door to get some soup for Effy while Emily whips up eggs for the rest ofyou. You take a few bites and then frown.  
  
"What, you've always liked my eggs," Emily says after beat, sounding a little offended. "I mean, I know it's been a while but--"  
  
"Yeah, no, they're fine. Just, don't ever let Ef here cook for your girlfriend, babe," you say, and then watch as Effy clears her throat and studiously looks away with what appears to _almost_ be a blush.  
  
\----  
  
You and Emily spend some time going through her closet, adding a few summer-ready things to what you bought today after Effy confesses to not really having thought about bringing clothing for you, and when you get back, Naomi's perched on the kitchen table, gently applying some cream to Effy's cheek, who is grabbing the edges of the chair so tightly that you feel your stomach drop.  
  
Emily holds you back, though, and so you watch silently from the doorway as Naomi then applies some concealer and then leans back and examines her work critically. "It'll do. I mean, you still look a little roughed up, but less like you just had three rounds with Amir Khan."  
  
"Thanks," Effy says softly, and you move over to your purse and rummage around it for a few moments before taking out your sunglasses and handing them to her.  
  
"These things are _ridiculous_ ," Effy says after a moment and you roll your eyes.  
  
"What fucking ever, they'll cover most of it up, yeah?"  
  
She slides them on carefully and then cranes her neck up at you, and in some better clothing it's like something out of a Gucci ad in _Harper's_ orsomething.  
  
"God, Katie, I don't know how you wear these things," she says with a sigh and Emily laughs somewhere behind you. "I guess I'm just not quite as _gangster_ as you are."  
  
"Oh, fuck off," you say and then smile unwillingly when she prods you in the ribs with a smile of her own.  
  
\----  
  
You give her two codeine right after you board the plane, stolen from a supply from when Emily apparently broke her collarbone in an accident that,even in reference, made both her and Naomi blush furiously and stop talking abruptly--but you don't even care about that, because all you could thinkwas _how didn't I know_? and well, whatever. Effy goes out like a light after take-off and falls asleep on your shoulder, and you duck your head justenough to watch England disappear, one small, green patch of land at a time.  
  
She wakes up automatically when you land, simply because there's been worse landings in history but only like five, and then clutches at your hand while the plane grinds to a horribly tense stop.  
  
"You're afraid of flying," you say when she exhales and finally lets go.  
  
"Yeah," she says and then takes another deep breath, tips her head back against the seat.  
  
"Never would've guessed," you say after a second and she raises an eyebrow. "You're just, I don't know. I've just always thought of you as not being afraid of anything."  
  
"Well," she says, trying to stretch before it stops with a pained sound and you shift around, ready to help her get back up. "Don't I have you fooled, then."  
  
\----  
  
She flags down a taxi once you're outside and rambles out instructions so fast that you can't quite follow, but minutes later you flinch and put an arm around her waist. "Fuck's sake, have shock breakers not made it to Spain yet?"  
  
"Believe it or not, this is still quite good," she manages between gritted teeth and then looks about three years older by the time you finally pull up outside an apartment complex.  
  
"Your friends' place, then?" you ask, carefully, after getting the suitcase out of the back of the taxi and waiting for her to stop looking like she's going to throw up.  
  
"No; place I used to live. They said come back whenever, so let's find out if that's true."  
  
\----  
  
It is, and one look at the cramped, small and relatively dark room with just about enough space for a bed makes your heart bleed for her all over again. "God. Tell me you didn't live here for a full two years."  
  
"One and a half," she says, sitting down on the bed and then looking up at you with a sigh. "Kay, I really don't think I can reach down for my shoes. Can you--"  
  
"Yeah, God, babe, just ask," you say and slowly work them off her feet, trying not to disturb her legs too much because her breathing is painfully slowand deep. "More painkillers, yeah?"  
  
She nods faintly and when you hand her a glass from the small kitchenette, pour a bit of bottled water into it, she slowly swallows both pills.  
  
"Can you help me take my shirt off," she asks after a moment and then lifts the hem. "It's too warm, I won't be able to sleep if I'm wearing more than avest."  
  
You don't bother responding but just get down on your knees again, slowly working it up her torso as she bites her lip hard, raising her hands, and only then do you see the bruising on her rib cage. "Oh, _Effy_. God, we should take you to a hospital or something. Fuck knows what's--" you say and then close your eyes.  
  
"I'm fine; I know how to tell the difference," she says, with tears in her eyes before lowering her arms again. "God, that hurt."  
  
"Yeah, we're not fucking doing that again," you say after a second and then just scoot behind her. "Just sleep without a top on, yeah? I won't like, lookor anything."  
  
She nods after a second and you unsnap her bra awkwardly--never done it from this angle before she shrugs out of it. You pull the covers further backand she slips underneath them, still wearing trousers but it's fine; there's a loud hiss as she tries to settle--the bloody rib bruise is on the opposite sideof the face bruise, and you have to try very hard not to cry when she cries out in pain before rolling over onto her back and taking a few deep breaths.  
  
"Come here," you finally hear, and it's so feeble that you just change out of your clothes and into a t-shirt to sleep in as quickly as you can, before sliding in beside her and tentatively reaching for her hand. "Distract me? Please?"  
  
You think hard for a moment and then snort when a story comes to mind almost immediately. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw Emily andNaomi snog?"  
  
Effy smiles, almost successfully anyway, and then shakes her head minutely.  
  
"Well, we were fourteen and at this party and I'd just met Danny, so this was before I realized what a boring tosser he was," you say, and the cornersof her lips do lift at that, "so I was a little preoccupied with getting drunk enough to volunteer to give head; you know how it is."  
  
Effy snorts at that. "Uh huh."  
  
"And I'd completely lost sight of Emily, who I figured was off being a loser in the corner somewhere because whatever, she just kind of _was_ , and then we ran out of beer in the living room and someone mentioned that there was more outside. So I step out on the porch and they're like, sat on the grass together, talking or something--I had no idea who the fuck Naomi was at that point, right, could just see Emily with some blonde girl."  
  
"Right," Effy says and then shifts in a little bit closer with a shudder. It's not cold at all, but maybe that's just you, and so you slide in the rest of theway, until your knees are pressed against her thigh and your arms are in the little space between you.  
  
"And, to my absolute fucking amazement--and well, like, that's putting it mildly because I swear my head just about fucking exploded--my _sister_ fucking leans over mid-sentence and like, snogs the hell out of this girl, who pulls back with a surprised look on her face and like, God, Emily, like cowered into herself or something and so naturally, being the complete and utter twat that I am, I rewrote history on the spot and pretended that my sister had been the fucking victim of some sort of dyke attack, which then led to almost two years of Naomi being harassed while Emily got away scot free, because I was well popular and nobody believed the lezza bitch over me. Obviously."  
  
"You honestly thought you were doing her a favor, then," Effy says after a beat and twists her head to look at you.  
  
"Nah," you say with a wry smile. "That would've involved me thinking about someone other than myself, for a change."  
  
"You've gotten better at that," Effy responds softly, and then looks at you so seriously that you close your eyes after a few seconds.  
  
"If I promise not to like, molest you or anything, do you think I can slide in closer and give you a hug or something?" you ask, hesitantly, and blink your eyes back open when she touches the corner of your mouth.  
  
"I wouldn't say no even if you _were_ planning to molest me," she says with a smile. "Though--"  
  
"Yeah," you agree and then sit up just enough to kiss her on the forehead. "Let's try to get you rested up a bit, yeah? I'd like to do Spain the non-crippled way."  
  
She just closes her eyes, smile still lingering on her lips, and you shift in closer, wrap one arm around her waist carefully, and only relaxing when she covers that arm with her own.  
  
\----  
  
You sleep like the dead.  
  
\----  
  
In the morning, when you wake up, she's breathing quietly with her mouth a little bit open and you pull back enough to just like, study her. You've not really let yourself but you figure that with the kiss and the other things that you've sort of said to each other, it's probably okay now.  
  
You suddenly remember what your mum said all those weeks ago and start laughing.  
  
Effy's eyes blink open slowly and she manages a small smile. "Hey. What's funny?"  
  
"When my mum first met you, she pulled me aside later and told me that with someone this gorgeous as my roommate, it would be well difficult for me to pull a good-looking lad," you say, and then break out into a smile almost immediately.  
  
Effy almost laughs but then winces, holds her rib and bites her lip. "Fuck, Katie, warn me before you're about to say something like that."  
  
"I look forward to telling her she was right," you continue and then watch as Effy carefully rolls over onto her side, pressing up on one elbow with only aslightly pained look, and then reaches out to brush your hair back with her fingers.  
  
"Well, if she's _dead_ , Emily won't have to worry about forcing a confrontation anymore," she says, lips flickering back up into a smile, and then she justtilts her head forward, just enough to kiss you softly. You can feel the beginnings of a scab on her lip and don't move as a consequence, just let her say hello like this because, well, it's rather fucking nice.  
  
"We should send her a postcard informing her of the forthcoming good tidings," you say when Effy lies back down, and then just look at her for another long moment. "Hey, more pills, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so," she agrees after a second and then yawns. "But God, I feel incredibly rested; it helped loads."  
  
You know what she means.  
  
\----  
  
You shower; hover around the little ensuite while she showers because you're fucking frantic she's going to get faint or like fall and hurt herself more,but she comes out looking better than she did yesterday, and the edges of the bruise around her eye are already starting to turn green. You put some concealer on the worst of it and she kisses your fingers when you're done spreading it out. You smile.  
  
There's a little deli, or cafe or something--you don't know what the proper term is--at the edge of the street and Effy gets greeted there like an old family member. There's lots of hugging and kissing and animated questions and you hover at the door kind of awkwardly until someone notices you, and next thing you know there's pointing and even more questions which Effy deals with after a quick glance in your direction.  
  
Then, you're being kissed on the cheek as well and you just sort of stand there and let it happen because like, you don't want to be rude, but also have no buggering idea what is going on.  
  
"What the fuck was that?" you ask when she makes her way back over to you and then pulls you towards a table.  
  
"They're friendly here," Effy says blandly. "I mean, in Spain."  
  
"Uh huh," you ask, still looking at them warily because they're quite blatantly still talking about you. "So what's a _novia_ , then?"  
  
"Spanish for best friend," Effy responds after a beat, the tips of her ears vaguely pink.  
  
"Right," you say slowly, and then just stare at her until she averts her eyes and reaches for the menu.  
  
"Omelette?" Effy asks after a beat.  
  
"Nah. Don't want to ruin yours by eating even better ones," you say after a moment and then shrug. "Coffee; otherwise get me whatever."  
  
She purses her lip at the menu and after a few beats just calls over one of the waiters, who rests his hand on the back of her chair and looks at her sofondly that like, yeah. Effy's a fucking heartbreaker, and that apparently doesn't just start and end with Bristol.  
  
"Ex-boyfriend?" you ask when he's gone off, to deal with her rambly and whatever instructions, and she laughs.  
  
"Maybe in his dreams."  
  
It's oddly comforting, that.  
  
\----

 

You go to a supermarket shortly thereafter and Effy rummages around, points at things she can't reach and you get them for her, but once you reachthe produce she's perfectly fine and you take a second to text your sister.  
  
 _wtf is novia in english_  
  
Answer comes back a few minutes later and you like, damn near swoon next to the onions, which is of course exactly how you've always imagined it would be; leaning heavily against vegetables that'll make you sob like a child.  
  
"You all right?" Effy asks with an amused look on her face. "Heat getting to you?"  
  
"No. I just really fucking like onions," you retort after a few seconds and she goes, "Okay then" without asking any further questions before examining some tomatoes.  
  
You kiss as soon as the door to your apartment falls shut behind you, annoyed with her bloody lip but mindful of it anyway, and then stare at her for afew moments. "Bit presumptuous, aren't you?"  
  
"Uh, you kissed _me_ ," she responds with a faint frown and you roll your eyes.  
  
" _So_ not the fucking point," you say and then kiss her again.  
  
\----  
  
You take a nap after a light lunch--"really, Katie, it's too hot, we'll eat more later," Effy had said from the bed and you'd taken her word for it, just preparing a few cold cuts and some veg with dip--and wake up to Effy twitching against your side.  
  
"Hey, shh," you say unthinkingly, and then place a hand on her back. She relaxes into it and then sighs deeply, falling deeper asleep again.  
  
You stay awake and watch her sleep for a few minutes before getting out a book and resting that way.  
  
\----  
  
You wake up when she lifts the book off your face and then plucks your glasses off.  
  
"I can do that myself," you mutter, grumpily, and she just rolls her eyes.  
  
"Are you up for going out for dinner?"  
  
"Dunno--are you up for telling more people that I'm your girlfriend?" you ask in response, and then laugh when she flushes. "Fuck, whatever, I have no idea what I would say if anyone asked so it's fine, honestly."  
  
"Yeah?" she asks after a beat and you shrug.  
  
"Yeah. I mean, it's Spain. It's not like we're staying here, or anything." She frowns at that and you shake your head. "No, I mean, ugh. Sorry, that wasa shitty thing to say. I just mean that this isn't England, and like, these people aren't people who are going to totally freak out about this, unlike--"  
  
"Yeah, I know," she says and then smiles wryly. "I wonder if my mum will even give a shit, to be honest."  
  
"Well," you say as lightly as you can. "If she lets us down, somehow, I think we can count on my parents for the overgrown, aneurysm-like reaction."  
  
"Goody," she says and then blinks at you sleepily. "Hey, did I take any more painkillers before the nap?"  
  
"Nah, you can have a few," you say, and then rest the back of your hand against her forehead. "Feeling worse, then?"  
  
"Skin's tightening. It's a good sign, honest," she says, and then twists her lips. "Just unpleasant."  
  
"You're not going to let me know just how badly it really hurts, are you," you ask after a beat and she just snorts.  
  
"Would you?"  
  
You kiss her in response and fetch the ibuprofen; throw in some aspirin as a bonus and she says, "Best dealer I've ever had" before swallowing themall.  
  
\----  
  
What's nice is that surprisingly little changes, even though you've had like a hell of a lot happen in the past two days, but dinner is like dinner has always been. Effy orders (only because you _let_ her, and she knows it) and then you just sit and comment every once in a while on ridiculous thingspeople are wearing, except you're out of material rather quickly because it's just an endless parade of pretty girls in flowing dresses and you scowl when you realize Effy's noticing it as well.  
  
You stop scowling when she turns back to you and says, "Think you can pull that off?"  
  
"Of fucking course I can," you respond and take a sip of wine, ignore the teasing smile on her face.  
  
"What do you want to do tomorrow, then?" she finally asks, after you've both been served some fish that she swears won't kill you and tastes more like cod than like anything fishy.  
  
"It's your city, babe. Show me what you want me to see," you say and she turns introspective almost immediately, eats slowly while clearly planning out stuff to do and whatever, you can admit to yourself (if never out loud) that it's kind of adorable. In a weird, doesn't-ever-fucking-talk way.  
  
\----  
  
"Can you dance salsa?" you ask her when you're back in the apartment and helping her out of her little dress, and she turns as best as she can, tolook you in the eyes.  
  
"No. I mean, I'm sure I can, but I haven't. Why, do you want to?"  
  
"Nah," you say. "Just wondering."  
  
You dream about it that night, though; Effy in a tight, black dress with a short, flowing skirt end and ridiculously high heels, doing ridiculous things thatyou've only ever seen on _So You Think You Can Dance_ but making them look easy.  
  
You wake up almost ridiculously horny (which is insane because like, it was just--and she doesn't even _know how_ ) and it only gets worse when Effyrolls onto her side spontaneously and places one of her hands right underneath your breasts.  
  
You take a few deep breaths, to absolutely no avail, and then think of Danny naked, which _does_ help.  
  
\----  
  
She takes you to an unfinished church after a slow, long breakfast that you eat in bed because it's so bloody hot out already that neither of you canreally be arsed to move.  
  
"They started building this in the 1880s," Effy says when you're in front of it, and she winces up at the top of the structure, "and they think it'll finally be done like, ... ten years from now. Somewhere around there."  
  
"That's fucking mental. What on Earth is taking so long?"  
  
Effy just shrugs and takes you by the hand, so casually that you don't even really notice she's done it until you've already walked up to the rest of thestructure and are craning your necks even further to look up at it.  
  
"Want to go inside?"  
  
You shrug.  
  
"Alternatively we could go find some ice cream, and I'll take you to the park."  
  
"You say that like there's only one," you note seconds later when she's already tugged you back into a different direction, with a much smaller wince than you expected.  
  
"Only one that matters, really, now that we're being tourists," she says flippantly and then buy you pistachio ice cream without even needing to ask what you want.  
  
She's almost fucking psychic sometimes, but maybe that's just because you're really predictable, or something.  
  
\----  
  
"Fuck, your nose is so red," she says with a laugh when you get back to the apartment and are finally out of the sun. "That's going to peel soon ifyou're not careful, Kate."  
  
You think about retorting a few seconds later because, whatever, Effy's face is like covered in freckles after two days of running around Barcelona andit's rather fucking adorable but she can't really pull off any of her like, whatever-I-don't-care bullshit when she looks so--almost innocent. Which isn't aretort, really, just an observation, and you find yourself wondering if she's got freckles _everywhere_ , because you weren't exactly paying attention whenyou were undressing her a few nights ago--it's gotten better, she's figured out how to do it herself, and of course you're not actually disappointed because that's a good sign--and then you're just dumbly standing there, blushing.  
  
"Well... whatever's going through your head, at least the rest of your face now matches your nose," she says in a very dry tone of voice and then leans down just far enough to kiss it--your nose, that is, because your mouth's still a bit open (apparently) and she presses two fingers to the bottom of yourchin and closes it, gently.  
  
"You're such a twat," you finally just say and she doesn't respond at all, just looks at you with an amused expression before getting a bottle of after-sun from the bathroom.  
  
\----  
  
Spain comes with its own routine; Effy's still a bit handicapped but getting better rather quickly, but whatever, some part of you doesn't mind admitting that _if_ you're like, dating now, you feel a hell of a lot more comfortable in the role where you like, do the girl things, and she like pays for shit and acts as a tour guide. She doesn't ask questions about that either, just shrugs when you tell her to fuck off out of the kitchen and just smiles faintly whenyou go, "Right, here's some money for like, dinner or whatever" so that you don't have to bother with paying for stuff.  
  
You don't really ever leave the sweltering little apartment until the afternoon because it's just too bloody hot, but by three you can just about handle it,and in the past few days she's dragged you all over the city, to touristy highlights--cathedrals, museums, architectural things--and on the third day youfinally had the foresight to buy a disposable camera for some pictures.  
  
[You snap one of her when she's sat on a bench waiting for you after you announced a rather dire need to go to the loo, and then scowls at you whenshe sees you putting away the camera, at which point you just steal the fag she's smoking and raise your eyebrows.]  
  
In the evenings, you go out to dinner at rustic little cafes or tapas bars that she remembers from the time she spent in the city and you're treated tomore things you can't fucking pronounce than you can deal with, but she knows you well enough to not once order something you absolutely hate, andthe second to last night you look at your empty plate with a bit of dismay.  
  
"Bangers and mash not looking too appealing?" Effy asks and you sigh, shake your head.  
  
"I'm so lucky I at least live with someone who can cook _some_ of this. Fucking hell."  
  
The next morning, she cites a need for more fags and goes out while you're making breakfast and then comes back, sweaty and red and almost dehydrated, so you yell at her for a bit before passing over some water and then notice that she's got a plastic bag that completely wouldn't have been handed out with cigarettes.  
  
"Where the fuck were you, then?" you snipe at her and take the glass of water from her while she wipes off her forehead.  
  
She hands you the bag and you pull out a Spanish cookbook. "For you. When we get back."  
  
"I don't fucking _speak_ Spanish."  
  
She stares at you like you've actually gone retarded. "Yes. Wouldn't it be wonderful if you lived with someone who did, and could help you?"  
  
You're completely torn between being annoyed and totally enamoured and end up settling for just throwing the book back on the bed and kicking at themattress. "God, _why_ hasn't your fucking face healed yet?"  
  
Effy snorts and tugs on your belt, pulls you in closer, and then looks up at you through her eyelashes. "Hold that thought. Really. It won't be long now, I think."  
  
"Whatever," you mumble, and try not to shiver when her fingers span your waist, slide underneath the hem of your t-shirt almost accidentally.  
  
That casual invitation to uh, do _something_ raises another set of issues, and over a lunch-time glass of wine you look at her critically. "So you've done it before, then."  
  
"What?" Effy asks, looking out over the street next to the terrace you're sitting on with a blank expression.  
  
"Fucked a girl."  
  
She almost drops her glass and then carefully composes herself again before looking at you. "What the fuck, Katie."  
  
"What, well, I don't know," you say, distinctly uncomfortable. "You said something about a girl in Spain and fuck if I know, you just don't seem to think it's a big deal."  
  
Effy doesn't say anything for a long moment and you stupidly feel yourself get like, ridiculously insecure out of nowhere, until she just looks at yousharply again and says, "It _wouldn't_ be a big deal, if it wasn't with you. You cow."  
  
"Oh," you say, and then wonder if it's completely uncouth to call your sister for some pointers, before remembering that that means you'd spend therest of your life knowing about what Naomi Campbell did in bed, and you blanch abruptly before taking a huge swallow of wine.  
  
\----  
  
You fuck things up magnificently on the last night, by asking a rather obvious (but apparently no less painful) question.  
  
"What happens when we get back, then?" Effy stiffens next to you immediately and you turn to look at her face. "Hey, babe. I just meant, like, are we--you know, does anything need to change?"  
  
She opens her eyes after a moment and sighs. "Well, I'd like to stop trying to press myself up against the wall so I don't accidentally roll over andtouch you when I'm asleep."  
  
You smile unwillingly. "That's adorable, babe."  
  
She rolls her eyes. "I just, whatever. I mean. Things are good the way they are, aren't they?"  
  
"Yeah," you say after a second. "I mean, they are. I don't think I would've--I mean, you hit me in the head with a _rock_ , Effy. Things have to be pretty damn perfect for that to not matter at all anymore."  
  
She smiles faintly and you reach out and touch her cheek, wait for her to turn her head and kiss your palm, like you're sure she will.  
  
"I know you don't want to talk about this," you say and her lips freeze, stay sort of dumbly pressed against your hand, "but I'd--what are we going to do about your mum, Ef."  
  
" _We_ aren't going to do anything," she says after a long, awkward moment, and the tension in the room rockets up out of nowhere.  
  
"Okay," you say slowly. "But _you_ have got to do something to make sure she can't do this to you again."  
  
"Like what, Katie? Would you like me to have my own mother arrested? Sent to a detox facility against her wishes?" Effy asks, about as angry as sheever sounds, and then rolls over away from you. "It's none of your business."  
  
"Are you serious? You getting the shit beaten out of you is none of my business?" you ask and she doesn't respond. You prod her in the shoulder. "What, so I can be your fucking girlfriend but only if I accept that sometimes, you're going to come home battered and bruised and I can fucking well nurse you back to health but I can't ask questions?"  
  
"I don't need _nursing_ ," Effy responds lowly after a moment.  
  
"Yeah, you were doing just fine without me," you bite out and then roll over away from her, until you're both facing the edge of the bed; just opposite edges, with a world of space between you.  
  
You wait for her to apologize. She doesn't.  
  
At some point you fall asleep.  
  
\----  
  
The journey back is as uncomfortable as things have been between you since like, fucking college. She doesn't acknowledge you in the slightest--andyou'd forgotten what a fucking _cunt_ she could be, all aloof and uncaring like she just flips a switch somewhere--and so you just fuck around on youriPod the entire wait at the airport, before falling asleep on the plane. She wakes you up with a hand to your shoulder and you stare at each other for along moment, but neither of you know what to say, so you just disembark and stand next to each other awkwardly at the luggage carousel.  
  
"I'm going to stay at Emily's, I think," you say when you're out of the airport and about to hitch the Tube back into the city.  
  
"Of course you are," she says, tone of voice completely neutral but it's just about the last straw.  
  
"If you are going to fucking _be_ with me, you are going to have to put up with me giving a shit. If you can't, then you might as well fuck off to Spain, because I'm not just going to sit around and hold you while you let your mother use you as a punching bag."  
  
"It's only when--" Effy starts saying and then stops herself, and you watch as her expression turns inwards before she just shakes her head. "It won'thappen again."  
  
"Are you going to stop talking to her, then?" you ask, more snidely than you mean to but fuck it, she seems completely unwilling to acknowledge thatyou're this fucking upset, this worried, because you can't stand the thought of this happening again.  
  
"She's my _mum_ , Katie," Effy says tiredly.  
  
That seems pretty final, and you watch her struggle with the suitcase for just two seconds before taking it from her. "Don't be fucking retarded. You're only barely starting to heal. I'll take it."  
  
"To Emily's," she asks, and then looks at you with such a let-down expression that you sigh.  
  
"No, you cunt, I'm coming home with you. _Obviously_. Can't even bloody lift a suitcase, how the hell are you going to do anything else."  
  
You still don't talk on the train back to Bristol, but things seem a little better anyway.  
  
\----  
  
She falls asleep long before you do, and you slip out of bed to give Emily a ring because whatever, it's barely even eleven.  
  
"Hey," Em says, with a yawn. "How was it?"  
  
"Good. Bloody hot; I look like a fucking crab cake or something."  
  
Emily laughs. "And Effy? How are... things?"  
  
"Complicated," you say after a long moment, and then curl up on the couch. "I mean, she's getting better, but--"  
  
"It's not easy," Emily says. "Adjusting."  
  
"What, because we're both chicks?" you ask after a second and then frown. "To be honest, I don't really think she gives a fuck about that."  
  
"No, stupid," Em says but it sounds like she's smiling. "To having someone care about you."  
  
"Oh," you say, and then sigh. "Fuck, I'm an idiot. I am so far in her space that she must be freaking out completely."  
  
"She'll adjust; and so will you."  
  
Your sister's like the fucking Yoda of gay relationships or something, you think, and then sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Effy's stretched out, almost hugging the wall by now. You wake her up after a few moments by poking her in the foot.  
  
"The fuck," she mutters and then blinks twice. "It's dark out, Katie. What the fuck."  
  
"Stop fucking--like, just get over here," you say, and settle in the middle of the bed. She looks at you warily for a long moment, but then finally rolls over and puts her head on your shoulder. You wrap your arm around her back, mindful of the now green-ish bruise on her ribs, and then relax completely when she burrows into your neck a little more, settles with a deep sigh.  
  
\----

 

For the next while, things are like they used to be, except:  
  
\-- When you get home from work, she'll be on the couch watching _Ready Steady Cook,_ and you'll lean over to kiss her hello first, before grabbing a beer from the fridge and joining her, watching as she gently stretches and moves over to join you (almost naturally again by now).  
  
\-- She squirts another heart on your omelette and this time you squirt one on hers with an eyeroll, too, before she snorts and says, "Gayest thing _ever_." Your "you fucking started it, you twat" disappears into a kiss.  
  
\-- Nobody drinks anymore. Except if there's a reason to, and when you realize it you mention it to her and she says, "Whatever" in a tone of voice that means that there was a pretty good reason to be drinking before.  
  
\-- You wank while thinking about her doing loads of things and don't even feel remotely guilty, not even when she knocks on the bathroom door one morning and asks what the fuck is taking you so long and you pretty much just moan in response, leading to a surprised, " _oh_ " on the other side and a rather filthy kiss by the time you finally emerge, blushing violently.  
  
All in all, it's pretty swell, until someone accidentally mentions family. Then, it's not so much.  
  
Except for the one time when Effy curled into you while watching a movie-- _State of Play_ because you fancy Ben Affleck and she fancies Helen Mirren, or so she said, with a completely straight face--and said, "I had no idea it could be like this, you know. Being with someone."  
  
Neither did you, but you know those words mean a lot more to her than they do to you, and you can't think of any way to respond other than kissingthe top of her head and not moving even a millimeter away from her.  
  
\----  
  
You can only pretend that your entire world is limited to your flat for so long, though, and Effy shatters the bubble unexpectedly on Saturday evening by looking at you and saying, "I'm going to go see my mum tomorrow."  
  
You want to say so much, like please let me come with you, or please don't, or be careful, but you know that this is a challenge and there's only one way to pass.  
  
"All right. I'll go have lunch at my parents'. Call me when you're done, yeah?" you say as airily as you can and she stares at you for another long moment before nodding, slowly--carefully.  
  
The next day, you miss every single question that your mum and dad ask you and James corners you right before you leave. "Something up with that mental roommate of yours, then?"  
  
You glare at him. "You know, you've got one more fucking time at that, calling her anything like that, and I punch you in the mouth. You shit."  
  
He blinks twice and then holds up his hands in surrender. "Christ, Katie."  
  
"Just fucking back off, James. She's my--" and you swallow hard because it's just painful to like, say so little and try to mean it so much, "best fucking friend, okay, and what happened between us was bullshit. A long time ago, and I'm very glad we got over it."  
  
"All right, all right," he says, defensively, and then reaches in his pocket for a bag of weed. "My sincerest apology?"  
  
You sigh. "Sure, whatever."  
  
You get baked in his bedroom and try not to look at your fucking phone every two minutes to little avail, and then finally just sigh.  
  
"What's wrong, then? Your trip with Emily balls?" he asks and you shake your head.  
  
"Went fine." It's not quite a lie because your reconciliation is complete, or well, as good as it's going to get, and you're sure that'll be noticeable thenext time she comes to Bristol.  
  
"Fine, then don't talk," he finally says and bends over to pick up a copy of _Nuts_ and starts reading it on front of you. The girl on the front cover's got huge tits and you can't help but be glad that well, Effy doesn't. You're just not that gay. Or maybe you're just not into big tits. You look down at your own and frown a little, because you can't help but wonder if the same's true for Effy.  
  
Before you can continue being retarded, the phone rings.  
  
"Ef?" you ask and glare at James so sharply that he just goes back to the mag without saying anything. "All right, then?"  
  
"Yeah," she says, but it sounds heavy. "Come home soon, will you?"  
  
Maybe it won't matter that she doesn't make it your business to deal with her mum, as long as she will let you deal with her, or at least be there somehow. You can hope, anyway.  
  
\----  
  
Effy's going through a stack of pictures when you get home, an hour later because driving while high has never been on your list of things to try out,and you sit down next to her silently.  
  
"That us in Spain?" you finally ask and she nods, flips over the last picture and then smiles.  
  
"What," you ask, and she shows you a picture of yourself dead asleep in the little apartment, reading glasses still on and nose almost fluorescent-red. "Ugh, you fucker, that's going in the bin immediately."  
  
"No way," she says and takes it back with quick hands. "I want it on my desk. Something to cheer me up during my dull work day."  
  
"God. If you want a picture of me just ask, I've got a ton of good ones," you say with a scowl and she laughs.  
  
"I don't want any of your Facebook profile pictures, Katie," she says with a smile. "This is much more like the real you."  
  
You neglect responding to that and just flip through the stack of pictures instead, until you get to the one of Effy on the bench, and your heart flips overin your throat because, fuck, she'd been pretty on the day itself but looks almost ethereal captured in the moment.  
  
"You should probably take one when my face has properly healed," she says softly and you just roll your eyes.  
  
"Yeah? And when do you think that will be? Christmas?"  
  
Effy chuckles low. "Why, are you getting impatient about something, Katherine?" You flip her off and she leans in to kiss your cheek a few seconds later. "If you can wait another week or so, I'll be in prime form."  
  
"Whatever," you mumble. "If frustration hasn't killed me yet it's unlikely to at this stage."  
  
Next thing you know, you're on your back on the couch and she's hovering over you, kissing you deeply, and you tangle your hands in her hair just topull her in a little bit closer. She shifts on her knees and then stretches out on top of you, slowly, and you get that it's probably just a bit of a teaserwhen her breath hitches the minute she makes contact, but fuck if it isn't making you hungry for the rest of it.  
  
She pulls away with a sigh and nuzzles your neck, and you opt to not ruin the moment completely by asking about her trip to her mum's house. Instead, you just close your eyes, and drift off.  
  
\----  
  
"How do you seduce a girl, then?" you ask your sister; you're incredibly drunk because there's no fucking other way that question would _ever_ come out of your mouth.  
  
"Let's see," Emily says, and then laughs. "Well. You get her drunk, preferably without being drunk yourself, but it can work if you're both drunk, andsnog her. If you're lucky she doesn't run off for a few days afterwards, but if she does, just take her out to a lake somewhere and get high and drunk,and then suggest blowbacks."  
  
You blink.  
  
"It worked for me," Emily adds cheerfully after second and then laughs loudly, before there's a dull sound against the phone and you can hear Naomi go, "fucking twat" in the background.  
  
"That is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard," you say when she finally gets back to the phone and apologizes breathlessly. "Is Naomi like, part _ape_ or something?"  
  
"Shut up," Emily says, not sounding all that bothered. "And honestly, Katie--what would you do if she were a bloke?"  
  
"Probably cook a nice dinner, then like, listen to some music or something while making out, and finally change into something skimpy before like, beckoning. From the doorway," you say after a moment.  
  
Emily smothers down some laughter. "Right, yeah. That's much better than blowbacks."  
  
"Whatever," you say with a scowl. "I've never had to worry about this, okay? In the past, a well-timed _wanna fuck_ has gotten me there."  
  
"I think Effy would understand that invitation," Emily says after a moment.  
  
"Yeah, but like, _God_ , I don't want to be that vile about it. For fuck's sake."  
  
"Why don't you just get on top of her and like, get to it, then?" Emily suggests. "That way you can avoid saying something totally moronic altogether."  
  
"Ugh," you say, because it's the most rubbish suggestion yet, and then hang up.  
  
Effy comes back from the store about five minutes later and laughs when she sees you. "What's wrong with you, then?"  
  
"Lesbians are fucking retarded," you say and to her credit, she just goes, "Ah, of course" and unpacks the bags.  
  
\----  
  
The real problem, you think afterwards, is that you had made a _plan._ The skimpy lingerie was probably significant overkill--you had no idea, really, but didn't fancy making an arse of yourself--but the dinner seemed like a good enough idea, and so you'd sent Effy off to the store for some bullshit ingredient and meanwhile set the kitchen table, lit a few candles and started up a pan of penne with shrimp and mushrooms in a vodkasauce that, after careful consideration, seemed like it would be light enough to permit a few hours of fucking immediately afterwards.  
  
Effy had come back with raised eyebrows before stepping in closer and asking, "What's the occasion?" and well, 'I'm hoping to shag you tonight' hadn't seemed like it would set the proper precedent so you'd just shrugged and accepted a kiss on the cheek alongside the can of tomatoes you didn't need for dinner.  
  
She had gone to change into something nicer without prompting and things had seemed like they were going well according to plan at that point still, so you ate dinner and filled in a few gaps about your respective days, drank a glass of red wine each, and then finally retired to the couch, where she'd reached for the TV remote and you hadn't really known how to stop her.  
  
So here you are, watching _The One Show_ in like, nice dresses, and you can feel your irritation reach a critical point.  
  
"Ef," you say and then stop because you're not quite sure how to continue.  
  
"Yeah," she says, crossing her legs and you scowl because whatever, you do _not_ want to be into her when she's so blatantly sabotaging your evening.  
  
"There was an occasion," you finally say, and she blinks at you before turning off the TV and twisting on the sofa until you're face to face.  
  
"All right," she says, slowly. "I didn't--what, like, our two week anniversary or something?"  
  
You roll your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."  
  
"What, then?" she asks and for a second there you can just about imagine throttling her because she's being so damn slow.  
  
Instead, you prod her in the ribs, hard, and she shifts away but doesn't cry out in pain. " _That's_ the occasion."  
  
"What the fuck--" she starts saying and you roll your eyes, completely exasperated with her.  
  
"Will you just _fuck_ me already?"  
  
The rest of her sentence comes out in a whoosh of air until she blinks at what you're wearing, and then at what she's wearing, and finally just laughs. "Oh, Christ, I'm fucking stupid."  
  
"Yeah, Jesus, what is _wrong_ with you?" you snap at her and she shrugs with another laugh.  
  
"I don't know, I've just--I've never really gotten more than just a _wanna fuck_ , really," she confesses and then reaches for your hand.  
  
"Well, God," you say, still scowling, but letting her pull you up anyway. "That's _real_ fucking sad."  
  
You have some additional thoughts, but she kisses you before you can voice them, and then forget what they are when her hands slide up your thigh, teasing the end of your knickers before cupping your arse.  
  
"I take well to suggestions, you know," Effy says, with a small nip to your bottom lip, and you roll your eyes.  
  
"Fine. In that case, I suggest you like, stop grabbing my arse until we're in the bedroom, unless you fancy carpet burn all over your back for the next three days."  
  
She laughs, so low that it like--reminds you that things have been rather G-rated in your life for a very long time now, but Effy wasn't ever that kind of girl and suddenly you feel rather unprepared. "Lead the way, then."  
  
You pull her along by the hand and almost knock over a candle on the coffee table in the process, but she's so fucking fast, reaching down to pull it back upright without even a drop of wax spilling, and you look at her hands and imagine them on you and have to swallow hard before you can keep moving.  
  
"Nice," she says, spotting the new sheets you put on and you just raise your eyebrows.  
  
"You want to fucking talk some more, then?"  
  
"God, you're impatient," she says with a laugh and then pushes you towards the bed, until you're perched on the end of it and she's stood between your legs, bending her head to kiss you once again, and it doesn't take long before you're crawling further back onto the mattress and she's sliding ontop of you, so agile and smooth that you feel almost like a boorish farmer in relative comparison.  
  
You've never quite kissed this much and you're starting to realize it was out of a sense of self-preservation, because something is starting to pulse in your stomach and it's so fucking insistent that you know you'll be finishing yourself off if she can't bring herself to do it tonight, for whatever reason--but that doesn't seem like something you need to be worried about, because she's up on her elbows, moving the straps of your dress off and kissing andbiting at the skin on your shoulders, and you dig your fingertips into her skull before tugging her back up by her hair.  
  
"We've got time, yeah," you say, surprised by how rough your voice sounds and she takes a deep breath, sighs.  
  
"Sorry. I just--well, I fucking like sex, and I've been thinking about having it with you for months now, so you'll just--have to remind me, to take it slow."  
  
You swallow hard and then kiss her, not bothering with any finesse but just making a point. "Fuck slow, Effy, we can fucking do slow some other time."  
  
Her grin is an enticing mixture of relief and acute interest, and next thing you know she's pulling you back up, reaching around for the zip in your dressand pulling it down while kissing your neck, so hard that you're sure there'll be bruises.  
  
"Fuck, Ef," you breathe when she slides the dress of your shoulders altogether within seconds and then steps back with wide eyes to watch it pool around your feet, before slowly panning back up your body and then biting her lip before kissing you again. Her hands are fucking _everywhere_ , even before you hit the mattress again, and then she's hiking up her own dress, spreading her legs and pressing one thigh between yours.  
  
You barely even manage a sound but then her lips are back on your neck, your throat, and you just dig your nails into her shoulders and she hisses, actually fucking hisses before kissing further down. And it's good, this, her total fucking confidence because it lets you forget that you're about to fuck a _girl_ for the first time; instead it's just Effy, Effy who is nipping at the top of your breast, hands spanning your ribs, before looking up with a slightly hesitant look on her face when one of her hands is like, on your tit.  
  
"So? Take it off, then," you say, and her eyes flutter shut uselessly in response, so you sigh and sit up long enough yourself to unsnap it, and by thetime you're working the straps off your shoulders she's looking again, taking over and kissing you deeply before she drops it off the bed somewhere.  
  
Then, she looks, and just smirks a little.  
  
"What," you say, and like, work _hard_ to not cover them or cross your arms or something.  
  
"No, just, it's a bit of a waste, right. I'm sure that there's plenty of lesbians and straight guys who would go fucking nuts over these," she says, andthen shrugs. "But I just, I don't know. I like them, but only because they're yours."  
  
"God. What is wrong with you? Stop talking," you say and she laughs before kissing you again and then palming both of your tits, running her thumbsover your nipples a few times before pinching them both, and you bite down on her lip in response, hear her chuckle in response before she deepensthe kiss again.  
  
That's when you roll her over. Both of you, really, but she makes a surprised sound and then blinks rapidly when you sit up and tug on the side zipperon her dress.  
  
"Come on then, fucking help me," you say and scowl when she stretches the fabric of her dress taut but the zipper still refuses to budge. "Fucking hell; this is why lesbians all wear like, trousers and flannel shirts, isn't it. God's sake."  
  
You pull a bit harder and the zip finally slides down, and then almost sails down naturally the rest of the way, and Effy wriggles out of the dress with an amount of dexterity that really shouldn't be possible, and then she's like, pretty much fucking naked, because she's not wearing a bra and her knickers are so fucking sheer that they might as well not even be there.  
  
She lets you stare without fidgeting which is ridiculously arrogant, really, like she has no idea how to be modest but then, fucking hell, if you looked like that naked you wouldn't either. "Jesus," you say and then scowl at her before crawling back on top. "You should be like, a fucking model or something. It's ridiculous."  
  
"Sure, Katie," she agrees, bringing you down for a surprisingly lazy kiss--like undressing made her less frantic than she was before--that is nonetheless dirty hot and by the end of it your knickers are soaked through; she can feel it, too, because her thigh's pressing up against your crotchand her breath catches when she feels how wet you are. "Weren't kidding about wanting this, then," she murmurs against your lips, and then gaspswhen you brush your hand past her tit, just skate past the nipple really, but the way she trembles afterwards makes you do it again, and again.  
  
You kiss your way down slowly and then take a deep breath before kissing her sternum, fanning out slowly with teasing licks of your tongue, until shereleases a shuddering, breathless "cunt" that makes you laugh, and then you press an open-mouthed kiss against her nipple, lick at it a second later, until she moans so abruptly that you do it all over again, just to see how long she can stand it.  
  
Her hands start stroking through your hair, smoothing it out, and it's the single most pleasant feeling you can imagine right now, slowly sucking onEffy's nipple and feeling her undulate up towards your mouth while your fingers are pressing against your skull, slowly rubbing it. You can't remember why you weren't doing this all along, until you start dotting small, fleeting kisses down the swell of her breast and open your eyes to see the last remnants of yellow-stained skin. You brush your fingers past it and look up at her to see if it hurts, and she looks back with such lazy, half-closed eyes that it reminds you of a satisfied cat, being petted, and you lower your lips to the bruise and kiss it, just once. Her hand strays to the nape of your neck and pulls you up, and you're back up to her mouth before too long; she tangles your fingers together, flexes your arms downwards until youcan feel two sets of knuckles brush past your thigh.  
  
"Please," she breathes into your mouth, and you shift just enough to make a bit of space, and then feel as she slides your hand down her knickers, spreads her legs a little more to make room, arches her back so that you're touching her automatically. She's so wet that you almost say something stupid, but then you brush past her clit and she jerks against your fingers so abruptly that it's not really that funny, anymore, and you realize only seconds later that you're in pretty much the same state.  
  
"What do you like, then," you ask, pressing your lips against her neck, kissing up towards her ear and softly nibbling on her earlobe. "Tell me what youwant me to do."  
  
She brings her own hand into play, presses two fingers against yours and moves when in a short, quick circle, right up and over her clit, just twice, butyou get the general idea, and suck on her earlobe before taking over, feeling her hand withdraw and splay out onto your back even as her head tips back and she sighs. You shift up just enough to watch her face, kiss the corner of her mouth until she smiles and then listen to her breathing, beforeshe bites her lip and then moans, "Inside, Katie" and fuck, fuck, you don't even really _care_ that this is the gayest thing ever because she's so fucking beautiful, and you feel so fucking amazing doing this to her that yeah, whatever, _inside_ , and then she clenches around your fingers and you moan out loud, surprising her enough for her eyes to blink back open before she looks at you with so much-- _something_ that you forget to move your fingers.  
  
She bucks her hips up, teasingly, with a faint frown and you laugh before kissing her again, and then try to keep a steady pace going, and after a few seconds of it she tugs her knickers further down, giving you just a bit more room to curl your palm up around her. She grinds against it, and you can see her swallow hard between the soft, frustrated sounds she's making while she's getting closer and closer.  
  
"Fuck, your thumb," she finally breathes and you fiddle around for a bit until she cries out softly, completely unexpectedly, and then you just keep doing that while she tenses around your fingers, pulls you in close, drags long marks into your back with her nails that make all of this just a little more real. You just made Effy, _your_ Effy come, and it's so fucking overwhelming that you don't even wait for her to catch her breath, but start kissing her hardand fast while she inhales sharply, her heart beating against your ribcage so fast that it's almost worrying. Then, she rolls you over and tugs your knickers down almost immediately.  
  
You come within a minute of her haphazard, experimental stroking and then again when she decides to go inside you while gently nipping at one of your nipples, and by the time you've caught your breath she's hovering by your side on an elbow, stroking your hip with a rather pleased look on herface.  
  
"Not quite like a handjob, is it," you say when you can, and then reach up to brush your hair out of your face but she beats you to it.  
  
"Not quite like _anything_ , is it," she says after a few seconds, and what starts out as just a few slow kisses that you both smile through quickly turns into round three, because apparently, it _can_.  
  
\----

 

Here's how things change after that:  
  
You contemplate getting out of bed to make coffee when your alarm goes off, but instead watch with still half-closed eyes as Effy yawns and stretches,usually on top of you or right next to you, and it presses all the interesting bits of her gorgeous body into yours, and depending on how late you were up the night before--talking, fucking, playing cards for the hell of it--you either roll her over and start touching her right away, or just pull her in closerand kiss her for long, slow minutes.  
  
You're late to work every day for a week until you finally pull yourself together long enough to say, "Fuck's sake, I can finger you in the shower, can't I?" and then finally make it in on time because yes, you can.  
  
And then sometimes, you go home for lunch just because you can, and she whips up a quick salad or something that you eat together at the table before spending a good ten minutes necking and groping each other up against the kitchen counter, dishes long forgotten.  
  
One evening, curled up together on the couch, you laugh spontaneously and she looks at you, waits for an explanation. "Just thinking that I honestly thought I was just, whatever, _over_ sex for a while," you say with a grin you can't really help, and then roll your eyes. "Men are _so_ overrated."  
  
"Maybe I'm just that good," Effy says after a beat, and you ruffle her hair before shoving her in the shoulder when she laughs softly.  
  
That night, she goes down on you for the first time, and it's a bit of trial and error with an exceptionally funny look on her face at the first taste, but aftera quick, "yeah, nice" she lowers her head again and it doesn't take long until you're straining up to her, grinding your cunt against her mouth before coming with a long, breathless groan. She draws it out with her fingers, and then keeps fingering you while shifting back up, and you kiss yourself offher lips while she makes you come a second time.  
  
"This was incredibly gay," you say later, when she's curled up on your chest and just running her fingertips up and down your stomach. "I mean, youwent down on me and I loved it, and then I tasted myself on your lips and thought that was pretty fucking great, too."  
  
"Yeah, so?" Effy says, before rolling over onto her stomach and looking at you with sleepy, satisfied eyes. "I was just curious. It was fun."  
  
"Nothing, I just, whatever. I think we're at the very least, you know, gay for _each other_."  
  
"Well, duh, Katie," she says after a beat, and stretches languidly; you end up staring at her tits completely involuntarily and she chuckles. "Way toclue in."  
  
"Oh, shut up; you couldn't even tell I was dying to fuck you, you're in no position to mock me," you say, and then try to scowl while she's trying not tolaugh.  
  
"Well, look at all the things we've learned lately," she finally says, and presses a kiss to your chest, right by your heart.  
  
Sometimes, she does the most unexpected things, and it keeps making you feel a little bit more, her stupid ketchup hearts and the way she's lettingyou win at least a few games of cards every night these days.  
  
\----  
  
The honeymoon ends abruptly.  
  
You're pooled together in a sweaty heap, Effy still pressing aimless kisses along your collarbone and it's rather lovely, you think, the way that she doesn't just immediately fall asleep or roll over afterwards, because there's just something about this moment right after you've both gotten off where like, you feel like you actually _get_ her, and that's not a feeling that you think anyone has ever had about Effy before.  
  
It's rather fucking special.  
  
"I've invited my mum over for dinner," she says approximately a millisecond later, before you can tell her that things are special and nice or whateveryou were planning on, and you know you really shouldn't be reacting this poorly but you can't actually _control_ the way your muscles tighten up just atthe thought of her fucking mum, and what she did.  
  
"When?" you finally ask, as casually as you can.  
  
"Two nights from now. Don't worry, I'll cook."  
  
"That's not--" you start saying and then just sigh because she _knows_ , obviously.  
  
"I need you to be okay with this, all right?" she says, not looking at you, but just tracing a small circle on your stomach.  
  
"Yeah, okay," you say because everything else you're thinking--how you can't promise that you'll be okay, that you don't know if this means you haveto start hiding or getting rid of all the liquor in your apartment--you don't know how to voice.  
  
Effy presses a kiss to your chest and then falls asleep. You don't manage to do the same for long hours, and if it wouldn't wake her up, you'd turn on a light or something.  
  
\----  
  
Anthea hands you a bottle of squash when you open the door. "Bit queer, isn't it, but I figured the traditional--"  
  
You cut her off with a "thanks, one second please" and take the squash into the kitchen where Effy's still putting the final touches on the pot roast she's prepared for dinner. "She's here," you say and put the squash on the sink. "Show her around or something? I'll deal with this."  
  
Effy looks at you with narrowed eyes for a moment. "She doesn't fucking _bite_ , Katie."  
  
You sigh deeply. "I'm _trying_ , okay? It would probably help if she didn't start the night with a crack about drinking, though."  
  
Effy runs a hand through her hair and then slumps against the counter. "Yeah, she does that. I should've warned you."  
  
"Hey," you say, and step in closer. "It's not your fault. You know that, right?"  
  
She nods when you place a tentative hand on her side and then steps forward for a kiss, just a brief one, but she straightens after it and says, "Oven's done pre-heating in 2 minutes or so, okay?"  
  
"I got it," you say and pour yourself a glass of squash while waiting. Remind yourself that it's a disease; that thinking of Anthea as the same personwhen sober and when drunk is about as fair as using age 17 as a benchmark template for yourself. It helps, a little.  
  
\----  
  
Effy doesn't do small talk; you can't make yourself do it because every time you look at her mother you see Effy crumpled against the door, bruisedand bleeding; and Anthea runs out after about two minutes.  
  
It's thus little surprise that she out of nowhere says, "So, Katie, how much do you know about addiction?" and you almost choke on a mushroom before taking an urgent sip of water and staring at her.  
  
"More than I'd like," you finally say, and that sets the tone for the remainder of the conversation like nothing else could. Effy shoots you a warning look from the other side of the table but fuck her, really. Maybe this isn't that much about her after all.  
  
Anthea almost smiles in response. "Well, I suppose I was asking for that, wasn't I." You don't respond but instead focus back on your plate until Anthea sighs. "Katie, if you genuinely think that beating the shit out of my daughter is something I enjoy--"  
  
"Mum," Effy says, warningly, and you reach for her hand under the table almost immediately.  
  
"--then I'm surprised you agreed to have me in your house."  
  
"It's a disease, isn't it. And this," you say, swallowing bile and holding up your glass of squash, "is the cure."  
  
"If it's that simple, there's really no excuse for me fucking up so much, is there?" Anthea says, still almost smiling, and Effy has gone so fucking whitenext to you that you have just about had enough.  
  
"For what it's worth--there's _never_ any fucking excuse," you snap and then push your plate away from you. "And you have no idea--she won't even tell me what the fuck happened, because that's how much she cares about you. And like, you reward that by almost fucking driving her out of the country not once but twice? No, there's no fucking excuse at all."  
  
Effy's nails dig into your palm and you stop talking even though Christ, is there ever more you'd like to say to her mum; maybe show her some fucking pictures of what you did, though you obviously don't have any because you don't _need_ them, the state Effy was in that afternoon will be stuck in yourfucking head forever.  
  
"Good," Anthea says after a long moment, rather neutrally. "I completely agree."  
  
It takes the arguing right out of you, because you feel so fucking like, _trapped_ by parenting or whatever that you don't really know what else to say.  
  
"When do you get to the apology step then?" you ask. Effy and Anthea both look at you in surprise and you shrug. "What, I did some reading. How isthat so fucking surprising?"  
  
"It's steps eight and nine," Effy says, quietly, and when Anthea turns to look at her with the same surprised look on her face your heart just shatters.  
  
"I'm not there yet right now, Effy," Anthea finally says. "And God willing, when I am, you will be the first to know."  
  
"Did I miss it on account of being in Spain last time, then?" Effy asks, almost unnaturally still. "Or did you just think that enough time had passed thatit wasn't necessary?"  
  
This is now going into a direction that you really don't know what to do with; if you should even be there at all. You move to get up but Effy's hold onyour hand tightens and so you end up more of less frozen in place.  
  
"I'd prefer to talk about this at some time when we're not having dinner with your roommate, Ef," Anthea says, finally, and looks at you with such shame on her face that you avert your eyes and look at Effy instead, who looks so small and broken that you can't imagine staying _or_ leaving.  
  
"She's not my roommate," Effy says, and then squeezes your fingers so hard it hurts. "And she's not going anywhere."  
  
You sit back down.  
  
\----  
  
At some point, many, many tears later, Effy goes to the bathroom and you're left alone with Anthea, who is also a complete wreck and well, you're not doing any fucking better yourself, but you want to make just one thing clear.  
  
"Mrs. Stonem," you say and Anthea just looks up at you blearily, sniffles one last time. "If you ever fucking touch her again, I will break your face."  
  
She looks torn between laughing and something else for a moment, but then finally smiles. "Well. I can see why Effy stuck around this time."  
  
\----  
  
Effy is completely drained with soggy, red eyes afterwards; can't stop shaking even when you get her into bed, even going so far as taking off her dress for her and holding out a t-shirt that she then finally takes, and she curls up onto your chest almost immediately afterwards and then just trembles.  
  
"You had no right," she finally says, so softly that you barely even hear her, and it's the most ridiculous rebuke ever because as soon as she's said it, she wraps her arm tightly around your chest and squeezes. "You had no fucking right, Katie."  
  
"I know," you say and kiss the top of her head. "I'm a loud-mouthed, meddling cunt. I'm sorry."  
  
"Do you think she meant it?" Effy asks when you've almost fallen asleep and you just--honestly, any protective feeling you've ever had for your sister just fades into nothing with the rush that overtakes you, because you _know_ that nobody's ever seen Effy like this, and nobody other than you--maybe never again after tonight--will.  
  
"Yeah, babe, I do," you say, softly and as confidently as you can, and you feel her nod a few seconds later.  
  
"I don't--" Effy says and then sits up just enough to look at you, and you reach out to touch her cheek almost immediately because God, her face, those eyes. You can barely stand looking at her when she's this vulnerable, this open, but you also can't look away for even a second. "I'm not going togo to meetings with her anymore."  
  
"Okay," you say, running your fingers through her hair and after a beat she moves into your hand, closes her eyes.  
  
"And I'm calling my brother tomorrow and telling him what--well, fuck him, this shouldn't just be my problem because I happen to be in Bristol," she says, haltingly, and then looks at you almost like she needs you to confirm that.  
  
"No, it shouldn't," you agree, and then something in her eyes changes, almost immediately, and just like that she's back; the real Effy, or well, the Effythat you've always known.  
  
"So when are you telling Emily and your parents that?" she asks.  
  
You take a deep breath and then laugh helplessly. "I feel incredibly fucking manipulated right now, just so you know."  
  
She smiles for half a beat and then looks at you seriously. "The problem isn't just Bristol, Kay. It's what we've made of it."  
  
"What it's made of us, you mean," you say after a moment and she nods. "What we've done to ourselves by not--"  
  
"Yeah," she says, softly. After a second of hesitating, she leans forward and kisses your scar, so softly and gently that you can barely even feel it, andwithout even really knowing why you turn your face towards her neck and do the same.  
  
You feel like you've just made a gigantic decision, except you have _no idea_ what it is.  
  
\----  
  
Naomi goes home to see her mum the next weekend and Emily asks if she can stay in your apartment. You change the sheets on Effy's bed just because and then blush when Emily raises an eyebrow at you upon being shown her way in there.  
  
"How are things, then?" she asks over coffee, after you've buggered off because Effy's still in the middle of her work day, and you don't really know whybut outright smiling feels like defeat somehow.  
  
"Good," you just say instead. "I mean, not great. Her mum--that's not--I mean, I don't know. Sometimes I think we're stupid for thinking that things will ever really be different as long as we still live here, you know?"  
  
Emily tilts her head at you and takes a slow sip. "So why are you staying?"  
  
It's an obvious question; perhaps so obvious that you don't have an answer. "Because our lives are here?"  
  
"Yeah, but lives change, Kay," Emily says and then shrugs. "Naomi and I were more ourselves after just two weeks in London than we ever were in an entire year in Bristol."  
  
"Ugh," you say and then lick off the top of your coffee spoon. "Not everything is about you and Naomi. Or _like_ you and Naomi."  
  
"I know," Emily says placidly and then runs a hand through her hair.  
  
You sit together quietly--a bit more like old times, now that you've stopped wanting to talk constantly--for a few minutes and then she shifts uncomfortably.  
  
"Another big announcement you're waiting to spring on me, Ems?" you ask, not without sarcasm, and she smiles faintly.  
  
"I've been thinking about what you said. About dealing with Mum and Dad, yeah?"  
  
"Right. And?"  
  
She takes a deep breath and then looks at you pleadingly. "I don't think I can do it alone. I mean, it was everyone against me the first time around, andif you don't support me on this, Katie, they'll never accept it."  
  
It takes you just a second to react, but then you feel a somewhat stupid grin come on and just roll your eyes. "I'm not an expert or anything but itwould be well fucking hypocritical of me to _not_ support you on this given what I did to Effy three times last night."  
  
Emily winces and kicks at you under the table. "Ew. I did not need to know that."  
  
"Payback for an entire bloody year of accidentally walking in on you two snogging in our bedroom," you say with a grin and Emily rolls her eyes at you. "When do you want to do this, then?"  
  
"Tonight," Emily says, and you contemplate getting mad at her for springing this on you for a second but it's the most progress you've made in what, almost half a decade, so maybe the only thing that matters is that she's taking this step.  
  
"All right," you say and throw a tenner on the table for the coffee. "Let's go back to mine, then, and see if we can't work out how to do this with say, theminimum amount of screaming."  
  
\----  
  
Effy joins you after an hour and the casual way in which she moves around your chair, puts a hand on your shoulder, makes Emily smile at you so stupidly that you flip her off.  
  
"Finally telling your ma and da to get bent then, Ems?" Effy asks, leaning against the chair you're sat on and you hesitate for maybe two seconds before sliding an arm around her waist, and then stare at your sister defiantly.  
  
"I think it's about time," Emily says with just the hint of a smile, before she sobers. "I mean, we turn twenty-three soon. I can't just pretend that thingsare okay forever, can I."  
  
"Nope," Effy says and finishes a glass of orange juice in three huge swallows before putting it on the table.  
  
"Uh, no you don't," you say, automatically, and she rolls her eyes before turning around and putting it in the sink instead.  
  
"Kitchen Nazi," Effy mutters affectionately before going back to her bedroom and you avoid looking at Emily for as long as you can, before finally just snapping " _what_ " at her.  
  
"Nauseating," she says brightly. "Absolutely vile; if Naomi and I are this bad then, well, I apologize sincerely that you had to witness it for an entire year."  
  
You flip her off.  
  
\----

 

It's the last time you manage to laugh for hours. You try to convince yourself that this is Emily's problem, even as she's zipping up your dress for youlike old times and you wordlessly pass her the mascara even as she hands you lipstick, but it doesn't really work that way anymore; not when in theroom next to yours there's a girl that you've been fucking and will keep on fucking for, well, however long. Probably a long time.  
  
And part of you resents her for it; this shouldn't also be your problem, because it's been your problem unwillingly for years now, long before you were ever even close to being gay, and yet somehow by being a coward Emily's managed to get you into a position where you _have_ to have her back. It justfucking sucks.  
  
"You have to talk first," you thus tell her, when you're parking in front of your parents' house and she's fidgeting with the hem of her dress nervously. "Okay? Promise me that you'll--"  
  
"Katie, all I need is to know that you're on my side," she cuts you off, a little more abruptly than you're used to, but maybe there's things that have happened to her in the past couple of years that you have no idea about, either. Maybe assuming that it's worse to have nothing change for you, ever, has just not been right.  
  
"Right," you say, and clear your throat before stepping outside. You walk to the same beat, next to each other for once, and then you almost ring thedoorbell before Emily elbows you and mutters, "we have _keys_ ". You laugh nervously and then sigh, dig around in your purse and fumble the keys once before getting the door unlocked.  
  
You see your mum first. "Girls, don't you look lovely," she says, approvingly, and then whips out that glance that makes Emily stiffen next to you--thecomparing one, the one that always has and always will make Emily feel like shit even though she hasn't looked gangly and kind of dorky next to youin _years_ now. You put a hand on her back unthinkingly and feel her exhale more than you can hear it.  
  
"Thanks, mum," she finally says, and smiles back valiantly in a way you don't think you can muster up.  
  
She sets you to work almost immediately afterwards, like you've never left, and it's only when you're actually sat down to eat that you have time to say anything else. Your dad is blabbering on about the gym and you grunt in agreement from time to time until Emily kicks you in the shins, and only then do you realize that you're being very fucking weird for no conceivable reason.  
  
You take a deep breath and then shoot Emily a warning look, so quickly that she barely has time to sit up straighter, and then stare at your mum. "I don't have anything against gay people."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" your mum responds after a beat.  
  
"Yeah, you heard me," you say and turn to look at your dad. James clears his throat and puts his fork down carefully, and Emily just slumps down inher seat again. "I'm not fucking homophobic, all right. I think people should shag whoever they feel like shagging and it's none of anybody's business."  
  
"Katie..." your mum manages after an astonished look at your dad, and James hides a snicker in a rather poorly faked cough.  
  
"So like, if Ems has anything she wants to say, about shagging girls or whatever, I just want to make it clear that I don't care."  
  
Emily flushes abruptly across the table and then glares at you, before cowering when your mother turns her head just enough to direct a zillion megawatt glare at Emily. "What's your sister talking about, Emily?"  
  
For once, you wish you sat next to each other at dinner, because unless something's changed significantly in the past few years, Emily could do witha bit of hand-holding in the literal sense right now. But then, you think, things have changed, because she takes a deep breath and visibly straightens before clearing her throat. "I think that what Katie's trying to say is that she doesn't care that I'm gay. And that it would be nice if the rest of you could stop giving a shit as well, because it doesn't change anything about who I am--"  
  
"Stop," your mother interjects, and then looks at your dad. "James, I think it's best--"  
  
"Oh, for God's sake, he's sixteen, not five, and it's not like he doesn't have loads of lesbian porn upstairs," you say, ignoring your mum's shocked gaspand James's surprisingly Emily-esque flushed cheeks. "You can't like, make this go away or keep on pretending it's not happening, all right?"  
  
Your mother stills dangerously and you only glance at Emily for a second because this is perhaps the most unfamiliar territory of all; the one whereshe has gotten past the shock, past the anger, and is preparing for something else altogether.  
  
"Right," your dad says, out of nowhere. "If this is some elaborate prank that the two of you have set up, I think now would be the time to say so."  
  
"Do we look like we're kidding?" Emily says, looking at him with a bit of amazement. "Honestly, Dad. When I said I was nailing a girl five years ago I wasn't joking anymore than I am now. You're just very good at hearing what you want to hear."  
  
Your dad carefully puts down his water glass and then just stares at your mum, and you brace yourself, because it's inevitable.  
  
"I thought we were clear on this, Katie," she says, and your stomach sinks, because even after all this time Emily won't be held accountable for herown choices.  
  
"Yeah. You and I agreed that Emily wasn't gay, which naturally did absolutely nothing to stop her from fucking her girlfriend. I'm--"  
  
"You watch your mouth; I won't be sassed by my own daughter," your mother snaps, and you sit back in your chair. "Now, I don't know what's gotten into you, but since Emily isn't seeing that--"  
  
"Her _name_ is _Naomi_ , Mum," Emily interjects sharply. "And _nothing_ you've done has stopped me from wanting to be with her, from choosing her. I'vejust stopped being honest about it, because like it or not, you're my parents and I don't want to not have you in my life."  
  
"So you defy us--"  
  
"She can't _help_ what she is, Mum," you blurt out, because as much as you're loathe to admit it, nobody's really put it any better than that in the entiretime you've been fighting with Emily over her relationship and her sexual orientation. Besides, it's not like anyone at dinner is likely to recognize yoursource. "It's not like she randomly woke up one morning and said, oh, hey, you know what would be fun? Fucking a girl, so I can alienate my entire family. For God's sake."  
  
"It's just not--"  
  
"Not what, Mum?" Emily asks, dangerously low. "Natural?"  
  
"You're _twins_ ," your dad finally says, sounding exasperated. "If one of you's completely--well, regular, then surely--"  
  
"I'm sleeping with the girl who hit me over the head with a rock," you say unthinkingly, and then look at your Dad and shrug. "Sorry. "  
  
James starts laughing before Emily violently elbows him in the ribs, but one look at him and you're laughing too.  
  
"Katherine, if you _really_ think this is a time to be playing games--"  
  
"Oh, but I'm not," you say, with a helpless chuckle. "This might be like, the first time in five years I'm _not_ playing a game. So here's the truth: I'm shagging Effy Stonem, I hate my bloody job, I hate that I'm still in fucking Bristol, and I hate that I was dumb enough to think that, like, having a gay sister would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me because I'd rather have twelve gay Emilys than either of you right now."  
  
You push away from the table before anyone can say anything but then pause when you've gotten up and glare at James. "And just so we're clear--ifyou're going to opt to be as big a cunt about this as I was at your age, I will kick you in the balls so hard that you'll never have children."  
  
The silence is deafening as you make your way outside and you slump against the front door as soon as you're there, before digging around in yourpurse for a cigarette and your phone. You're still thinking about what to text to Effy when the door opens behind you and you feel more than see Emily join you.  
  
"Those'll kill you," she says, almost lightly, and then holds out her hand silently until you pass it over.  
  
"Sorry," you say long moments later, and Emily laughs.  
  
"Well. It could've gone better, I guess."  
  
You look at her with the best glare you can muster up before also starting to laugh. "Shut up."  
  
"No, I really think you almost just _broke_ them, Kay," Emily says with a wondering smile. "Like, James was the one to suggest that maybe I head outas well; they were still just staring at each other."  
  
"Next time you're on your own," you say with a sigh and finish off the cigarette. "And whatever we're drinking tonight, you're buying it."  
  
Emily just smiles and wraps an arm loosely around your waist, just for a few moments, before sliding around the car to the passenger seat, but it's just about enough to make you forget that you've just successfully disowned yourself.  
  
\----  
  
Naomi stops by about twenty minutes after you and Emily have gotten back to your place, to find Effy clearing up her own dinner and noting with acautious look that there's some beer in the fridge.  
  
"We need something stronger than that, I think," Emily had responded wearily, and Effy had asked for Naomi's phone number after a beat.  
  
She arrives carrying two bags full of clinking bottles and you snort. "Did you buy the entire bloody off-licence, then?"  
  
Naomi shrugs. "Emily likes vodka, I like gin, you like tequila and Effy likes whiskey, unless something has changed."  
  
"Nope," Effy says cheerfully and takes one of the bags. "I'm assuming you also brought something for mixing?"  
  
"Duh. We're adults now," Naomi says, somewhat snootily, and then leans over to peck the top of Emily's head. "I'm glad to see this is still attached, by the way."  
  
"Ugh. If they were going to behead anyone it was Katie, not me ," Emily says, and then shrugs.  
  
"Yeahhh," you sigh, because with every passing minute you start regretting just _how_ the evening had gone a little bit more. "I was, well, in fine form."  
  
"I'm sure I'll hear all about it later," Naomi says, wraps one arm around Emily who leans into it, and you subconsciously look over to the kitchen where Effy is slicing up a lime for you at such breakneck speed that you can barely stand to watch it.  
  
But then she's in front of you, piece of lime between her teeth with a silly grin, and a salt-shaker and the bottle of tequila in her hands, and you just giveup on pretending that you're _not_ like them, that you are somehow above being like, a couple or whatever.  
  
You fumble the salt-shaker and mutter "shut up" when Effy chuckles softly, but then take a huge hit of tequila and bite the lime before she can take itout of her mouth--then spit it out over her shoulder and kiss her, flipping Naomi and her "classy, well classy, you two" off without looking.  
  
When you pull back, Effy's got her hands in her pockets and looks both please and flustered--to you, that is, because you're sure that to Emily andNaomi she just looks bored. Then, she grins. "So, Em. Has anyone explained Pusoy Dos to you yet?"  
  
Naomi groans and you laugh. Emily just looks confused, and the hand at the small of your back, the gentle pressure that reminds you that Effy is still there--will probably always be there, in subtle and understated ways, especially when you need her--allows you to finally relax a little, and forget about what happens tomorrow, when your parents have recovered enough to let you know if you've still got a job, or a family.  
  
\----  
  
The evening is distressingly good, really, in that you can't help but shake this overwhelming sense of melancholy at how well everyone is getting along. College could have been like this-- _should_ have been like this, and would've been like this if you'd all put less pressure on Effy to lead your group of friends, maybe, or if you'd been less of a cunt to your sister and her girlfriend, or if Naomi had been less of a cunt in general.  
  
Effy picks up on your mood, lifts it in subtle ways, by letting you trounce Emily a few times at Speed, who takes it in stride like she always has; it'slike Naomi gets competitive on her behalf, though, and Effy and Emily watch in amusement as you cuss at each other and get progressively more violent until you're basically just slapping each other for the hell of it.  
  
You are so engrossed that you almost miss Emily's quiet, "sorry about your mum" and Effy's delayed, but light enough, "sorry about _yours_ " in return.When you look over to them, Emily's leaned into Effy a little bit, who has _let it happen_ , and you finally manage to shake any lingering sadness over missed opportunities you had and just smile at them both.  
  
"And just to think--you could've been getting this close to Danny," you say after a beat, and Emily makes a gagging gesture even as Effy faintly raisesher eyebrows.  
  
Naomi just laughs. "Can't say much about your fashion sense, but your general taste has obviously significantly improved."  
  
You slap her hand even though you don't have a single card you can put down and glare at her. "Just because we're like, being friendly these daysdoesn't mean I'm suddenly _blind_ \--really, who the hell are you to be dispensing fashion advice."  
  
Naomi just grins and downs the rest of her gin and tonic, and then gets up to go to the bathroom.  
  
"You're a bit of an idiot, sweetheart," Effy says amiably enough after a beat, and then smiles when Emily starts laughing.  
  
"Whatever," you say, and try to come up with some sort of witty comeback--it had occurred to you a mere second after Naomi got up that she was probably just trying to make you feel better, or something--but then the doorbell rings, and you freeze with your mouth halfway parted before looking at Emily.  
  
Effy gets up smoothly and pats both of you on the head. "Don't worry your pretty heads. I'll deal with any fire-breathing dragons tonight, okay?"  
  
She wanders off to the hallway before you can say anything else and Emily looks at you curiously and with a bit of amusement. "Is she drunk?"  
  
"No, just trying to be funny," you say, and then shift over until you're sitting next to your sister against the wall, looking out over the messy stack of cards on the floor. "Who do you think came?"  
  
Emily sighs. "Probably Mum. You know Dad would never..."  
  
"Yeah," you agree, and reach for Emily's hand. "It'll be okay."  
  
"It will," Emily agrees, and then grips your fingers tightly. "Because I'm dealing with this by myself, okay? You've--I mean, please don't take this thewrong way, but you've done enough, Kay. I should take some of the heat, just this once."  
  
She doesn't really have to, and you'd tell her that if not for the fact that you spot Naomi on her way back, mutely and insignificantly shaking her head atyou, and so you just nod. "Okay. Thanks."  
  
Emily rests her head on your shoulder as you wait for Effy to come back, and when she finally does it's with someone unexpected in tow.  
  
"Hey," James says, awkwardly, and then scratches at his head. "They didn't like--they think I'm out playing footie with some mates, so I'm here for me, yeah."  
  
"Yeah, and?" you can't help but say. Emily says nothing, but then she usually doesn't know how to deal with James, who for all intents and purposes stopped being her brother when he was only twelve, and your parents decided you were the better influence.  
  
"And, well," he says, producing a messenger bag and opening it, pulling out two magazines and tossing them to the floor in front of you. "I thought youmight like these. Both of you."  
  
You don't know what to say for long minutes, and then finally Emily clears her throat. "I'm partial to Maxim myself, actually."  
  
Naomi doesn't quite manage to quash her laughter in time and James turns, spots her, and stiffens minutely until Naomi smiles at him. "She means Playboy, actually, but let's pretend she's in it for the articles, eh?"  
  
Effy sits down next to you, so quietly that you barely even see her until she's there, arm brushing past yours to reach for _Zoo_. "Interesting," she says. "Wonder if it contains make-up advice."  
  
You snort and elbow her in the side, but then look back at your brother, who clearly needs some sort of invitation from you to feel like things are truly okay. "I'm not going to, like, talk to you about fucking girls or anything from now on. Got it?"  
  
"I don't need advice," James says, almost hilariously defensively. "Besides, I've fucked more girls than you have. Either of you."  
  
"So, two, then?" Naomi supplies, and Emily bites down on her lip to not start laughing.  
  
"Three, if you must know," James says haughtily and then shakes it off--grins instead. "And I've got five more years to catch up, don't I."  
  
"It's funny; I've never thought about you as a boy, Katie, but if this is anything to go by, you'd be a lot like Cook," Effy says dryly.  
  
Emily and Naomi start laughing at once, and you just raise an eyebrow at her. "Someone's got a type after all, then."  
  
"Maybe," Effy says cryptically, and then gets up, looks at James. "Can I get you a beer or something?"  
  
"Sure," James says, and even manages a slight smile.  
  
"Got any blow?" Emily asks when Naomi joins Effy in the kitchen, and James looks at his other sister with something like curiosity and surprise at thesame time. "Don't look so surprised; Katie was big on MDMA in college, I was always into weed."  
  
"Really?" James asks, and suddenly your ages stop mattering--he's your little brother, and you're for once not inclined to kick in him in the shins, butrather to just let him admire you both for, well, completely ridiculous reasons.  
  
"Mmhm," you confirm, and then look at Emily with a smile. "'cept for when we got to sixth form. Then, we pretty much did _everything_. All at once."  
  
"Wait, am I about to get those stories that you've always refused to tell me about before?"  
  
You smother a laugh at his obvious interest and ignore Emily's questioning look all at once. Instead, you just say, "How about just the one; the night of Cook's eighteenth birthday," and as you start talking and Emily laughs and fills in a few blanks, you realize that something's missing: the resentmentyou normally feel when thinking back to college.  
  
"You know, your reputation of being a slut was completely unearned," Effy says when she sits back down next to you, just moments after you'vefinished talking about the fight and how you all got thrown out and/or ran for your lives, and then laughs. "From what I recall, you told Cook he was repulsive and you'd never fuck him even though we were all incredibly off our tits."  
  
"What about you, then? That night?" you ask in kind, and Effy shrugs.  
  
"We were always off again, he and I. Besides, I had to get Panda home."  
  
"Oh, God, Panda," Emily groans and then you all start laughing even as Effy explains that her best friend had had the brilliant idea of swallowing an entire bag of MDMA on an empty stomach and James' eyes bulge a little.  
  
"You were all fucking mental, weren't you," he finally says when you're done, the story trailing off when you all find something pleasant to remember about that first year of sixth form, and Naomi laughs.  
  
"Mm. Good thing we've all grown up to be such stellar examples of good Samaritans, right, ladies?"  
  
Effy rolls her eyes and gestures for James' weed; tosses it over to Emily after a second's thought and just shrugs. "You always rolled better."  
  
James blinks, and Emily winks at him before getting to work.  
  
\----

 

You get incredibly fucked up and then find yourselves exhausted at one thirty in the morning, even as James--now high enough to be comfortable andhis usual prickish self--mocks you all for being old-timers, only minutes before falling asleep on the sofa.  
  
Effy, as it turns out, though, is not so much tired as just eager to be alone, and even though you object a little--minimalist and quick as it had been, it had also been draining--you can't help but enjoy it--the way she just rolls her eyes and pushes you backwards onto the bed, kisses you with a grin andstarts tugging on your skirt haphazardly until you call her a drunken blind bat and help her out.  
  
And then there's just one of those moments--where everything else stops being an issue, and it's just you and her, staring, making _something_ happen between you two that you can't be bothered to find words for.  
  
"Well," Effy finally, hovering over you with a happy, drunken smile. "At least we didn't buy that bed for nothing."  
  
"I slept in it once," you confess, and she grins.  
  
"Yeah, but you didn't do what your sister and Naomi are about to."  
  
You make a face and she laughs. "Is this your idea of foreplay? Making me think about my sister naked?"  
  
"Didn't realize I still needed to work at it, really," Effy says, rather smugly, and then kisses you before you have the chance to come up with a proper retort.  
  
"That was distinctly unfair," you say with a scowl a few minutes later, breathing heavily, and she laughs before kissing further down your body.  
  
\----  
  
Emily goes to find your mum the next day, and you go to your dad, because sometime between sleep and waking you realize that you'd also blurted out something about your resentment of your job at him, and really, your issues are _yours_ , not his.  
  
You find him on the rowing machines and sit down next to him; work out just to have something to do, and he ignores you for a few minutes, just longenough for you to realize that you really have hurt his feelings, and it's something that you didn't think could ever happen. Your dad's just not that kind of man, but then maybe, he's only not because your mother doesn't let him be.  
  
"I'm sorry about what I said, about working here. I like the gym. I just don't think it's what I want to do with my life," you say, and he pauses in hisstroke abruptly before just giving up and sitting on the chair, looking down between his legs.  
  
"All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, kid. And I have no idea where it all went wrong, I mean, first your sister, and now you--"  
  
"Dad. I _am_ happy. Just because I'm not going to like, get married in the next five months, or whatever, or because we won't find ourselves like, spontaneously pregnant, doesn't mean I'm not _happy_."  
  
"It's just a lot," he says after a moment. "And your mum--"  
  
"No, Dad. This isn't about her, okay?" you say, and then put a hand on his underarm tentatively. You sigh in relief when after a long moment, he covers it with one of his own. "I know she's got her opinions, and Emily and I will just have to figure out a way to deal with those, but--you're not her. And I'm sorry that I don't want to work in the gym, and I'm sorry that this isn't what you'd hoped for, for either of us, but I'd like for you to know that, like, it doesn't _suck_."  
  
Your dad nods, and then sighs. "It's going to take some time, kid."  
  
"But I've still got a job, until I figure out what I want to do?"  
  
He looks at you with surprise. "Still--you're the best bloody instructor we have, Katie, and you've done so much to the finances that I don't have a buggering clue about them anymore. You can't leave until we've trained someone else, at least."  
  
It's a backhanded compliment. It's a _compliment,_ though, and you know you're blushing even as you roll your eyes at him. "I can show you. You can do this yourself by now; hell, a trained monkey could do it."  
  
"All right, all right," he says with a laugh, and then clasps you on the shoulder. "Just know that you'll always have a job here, if you want it. Okay?"  
  
"Thanks," you say, and offer him a quick smile before fucking off; crying in the middle of the gym is about as far from getting Fitch as it gets, and youdon't want to let him down.  
  
\----  
  
You meet up unexpectedly outside of your house, Emily looking like she went three rounds with a bull, and you give her a hug before she's even said anything.  
  
"I think it'll be all right," she murmurs into your neck, and you squeeze her in tightly.  
  
"Really?" you can't help but ask, a little skeptically.  
  
"No," she sighs, and then laughs silently. "But I live in London, and--"  
  
"Yeah, you live in London," you agree and step back, swallowing the rest of your comment.  
  
She looks contrite but doesn't say anything, just tilts her head. "And Dad?"  
  
"Not nearly as big a knob as we've always thought, as it turns out."  
  
"You're the apple of his eye, Kay," Emily says, not sounding put out by it in the slightest.  
  
"Oh, get real--you're the one that they've always expected things of."  
  
"Yeah. But who's the only one who can relate to him? Who bothered _learning_ about what he loves?" Emily takes a step back while you avert your eyes, fumble with the keys to your flat twice before getting it open. "Don't be dumb, Katie. You're the dream daughter these days."  
  
"Whatever," you say, and then sigh. "You know, honestly, I wish they'd just accept that neither of us are."  
  
"Yeah, that would be something," Emily agrees with a soft smile.  
  
\----  
  
They go back to London later that evening after Effy's whipped something quick together for dinner, and the apartment's oddly empty, even with all thealcoholic carcasses of your ridiculous night together still strewn around the living room. Effy offers to get you the remainder of the tequila but you shake your head.  
  
"No need. Let's just like, hang out, yeah?" you say, and she exaggeratedly lifts one of her arms for you until you can curl up against her side, on thesofa.  
  
"Tony's coming around next week," Effy says after a few moments, and it's one of those things that you'll just have to learn to live with--the way she updates you on important things out of the blue, without a bit of warning, when you're almost forgotten about them already. "You could meet him, if youlike."  
  
"The wanker who let you deal with your mother by yourself all this time? Yeah, I can't wait--he sounds like a bloody dream."  
  
Effy's arm tightens around you minutely but her voice has a bit of warning in it when she says, "Tony's cool" anyway. And since Effy fascinates you--especially when she hints however obliquely at caring about anyone--you relent with a soft sigh.  
  
"Sure, Ef. Let's all get together. Think James will like him?"  
  
Effy laughs mysteriously. "He might."  
  
"Fine, then," you say, and press a kiss to her neck, just because.  
  
You're quiet together for a long time, and then finally Effy stretches next to you, runs her fingers absently through your hair. "We should start making a list, sometime soon."  
  
"Groceries?" you ask with a frown.  
  
"No," she says, and tweaks your nose. "You idiot. Places we'd like to live."  
  
You blink at her and then sit up a bit. "What, like, _other than Bristol_?"  
  
She answers you very cautiously. "I thought--we'd agreed that getting out of here would be for the best."  
  
"Yeah, but like-- _someday_. I mean, we've only been, what, like--" and you frown at that, because it's not really had a name.  
  
"Fucking?"  
  
" _Dating_ for--I mean, for God's sake, it's only been a few weeks."  
  
Effy looks at you, annoyed, and then rolls her eyes. "Of course, Katie. If you want to go on pretending we haven't been in a relationship for months atthis point, go right on ahead."  
  
"Fine, so it's been a few months. Are you fucking pregnant? Because this still has all the special qualities of a shotgun wedding."  
  
Effy's smile wavers for a millisecond. "All right. Have it your way."  
  
You turn on the telly mere moments later, wondering why your heart feels like it's pounding out of your throat out of nowhere.  
  
\----  
  
You wake her up in the middle of the night. "You can't just do shit like that to me."  
  
"Wha--" Effy says and blinks at you blearily. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Like, talk to me in half sentences about _huge_ things like this. What the fuck, Effy? What is wrong with you?"  
  
She sits up and runs her hands through her eyes, blinks at you again. "Is this about moving?"  
  
"No, this is like--I'm voicing a general complaint, okay. I can't read your fucking mind. You have to let me know when you're thinking of things so youdon't scare the shit out of me by like, starting to talk to me about them out of _nowhere_ , like they're already a done deal."  
  
She mulls on it for a few moments and then nods. "All right. That seems fair."  
  
"God," you exhale and then glare at her. "Why are you always so fucking agreeable? Thanks for making me feel like a hormonal nightmare."  
  
She just smiles. "Sorry."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," you mutter, and then try to keep scowling when her smile widens and she pulls you in closer, kisses the top of your head like you're a fucking toddler or something. "My only point was, like, okay, we can talk about leaving Bristol together. But I want a solid plan, okay? No fucking offto Spain without anything in mind."  
  
"Where's the fun in that?" Effy murmurs into your ear and, really, fuck her, because you're _trying_ to be serious, but she's not really giving you much of a chance here.  
  
"We're adults, for fuck's sake. It's how we're meant to be."  
  
You can feel Effy's grin, the way her teeth brush past your neck before she sucks on it slowly. "I've never been all that great at following those kinds of rules, you know."  
  
You roll over on top of her and pin her arms down with a frown. "You better learn fast, because I'm not one of your fucking like--"  
  
"Of course you're not," she says, looking at you like you've lost the plot completely.  
  
"Right, well, this is me. I'm a meddler and I'm obnoxiously loud and I don't know how to read like, subtle clues or whatever, and I fucking like order andplanning and knowing what the fuck's going to happen to me from one day to the next."  
  
Effy laughs. "God, it's a good thing I'm already fucking you, because that's not much of a sales pitch there."  
  
"I hate you," you tell her, sternly, and then start kissing down her chest; you reach her stomach and then pause momentarily before looking up. "Andlike, don't even think for one moment that what I'm about to do changes that. Okay?"  
  
"Sure," Effy says, almost dryly except for the way her eyes are still smiling. "Hate away."  
  
You help her wriggle out of her knickers and then brush her legs open with the tips of your fingertips, and then press a kiss to her thigh, almost chastely given what you're about to do to her. You've almost forgotten that you've not done this before--she has, she's getting to be fucking marvelousat it, and you're not one to be outdone so here it is--but of course she's not going to let you forget.  
  
"I hope you're better at this than Juicy was," Effy says, somewhere above you, and you flip her off without looking; her chuckling soothes whatever lingering nervousness you might have about this stellar mid-night idea.  
  
"How fucking hard can it be if Naomi Campbell can fucking do it?" you mutter a few seconds later and Effy laughs breathlessly before shoving your head back down.  
  
\----  
  
The list, once stuck to the wall opposite your bed, is not long.  
  
 _London_  
 _Oxford_  
 _Birmingham_  
 _Manchester_  
 _Glasgow_  
 _Edinburgh_  
  
She helps you go through an anal-retentive sorting process that lists the pros and cons for each location--laughs at you when London has "Emily andNaomi" in both the pro and the con column--and then finally falls asleep while investigating if you can afford to live in Dublin.  
  
There's something about the way her face relaxes in slow increments--and you realize afterwards that you watched her sleep for almost an hour, like some ridiculous sappy retard--that makes you take the marker out again, adding one last suggestion to the list before you fall asleep.  
  
You wake up alone, but can smell breakfast, and when you look at the list on the wall, you see a jagged, scrawled _anywhere_ right underneath _Barcelona, maybe?_  
  
\----  
  
The moving process halts at just the list for a long time, because you need to have at least some unemployment contingencies in place and Spain, given that it was ridiculously abrupt, put a large dent in your savings.  
  
Your routines keep going, keep getting more and more enjoyable somehow, until you find yourself in a position where it's almost more exciting to cometo her three months after you started fucking than it was when you'd just started out.  
  
There's words for that, you're sure, but perhaps the nicest thing of all is that you don't feel any pressure to say them or to feel them, because Effy's not going anywhere, and you've figured out how to relate to each other with as little talking as possible.  
  
Every now and again you look at the list, separately, and small things keep happening to it; a few cities have been crossed out, until only two choices remain, and then on the four month mark--four months since that horrible afternoon that is now irrevocably tied up with the best thing that's ever happened to you, and there's an oddly curative quality to that knowledge--she crosses out one of the two last options with a determined look on her face.  
  
"It's time, I think," she says, and you can't help but shiver; faintly excited and scared shitless because you've never done anything like this before, let alone without the encouragement or permission of your parents, but then Effy kisses you with all the enthusiasm of a three month old puppy, tumblesyou backwards onto the bed with a laugh and you realize that you don't _need_ any of those things as long as you've got her.  
  
\----  
  
You tell your dad first; go for an outdoor run with him in the freezing cold in the morning, and then accept his sweaty, subdued hug outside of the gym.  
  
"If you need money, kid, just--"  
  
"We'll be fine," you assure him, and then bite your lip for a moment while looking at his face closely. "I think I'd like--I mean, if you want to, I think it'dbe cool if you came to visit, sometime."  
  
For a second it looks like he's going to decline, but then he puts an arm around your shoulder and says, "I'll call around, see if I can find a good gym nearby. We can go look at it together, all right?"  
  
"Sure," you say and burrow into his shoulder just for a second; squeeze in tighter when he adds, awkwardly but sincerely, "It wouldn't kill that Effy of yours to gain a few pounds in muscle, either."  
  
\----  
  
You haven't seen your mum since dinner, that night, but after a faint nudge from Effy, you head over to your parents' house and awkwardly ring thedoorbell.  
  
She looks rough. Like she hasn't slept in weeks, but within seconds of spotting your form her frame straightens out, and her face looks hard when she opens the door.  
  
"Katherine," she says, and you almost flinch, but not quite.  
  
"I'm sure you've heard, but I wanted to say goodbye in person."  
  
Maybe it's something about the matter of fact way in which you've put it, but she crumbles after a few beats; just absolutely fucking falls apart, and youstand outside helplessly, not sure if it's your place anymore to get her inside and make her some tea, not until she pushes the door open further andthen reaches for you, pulls you inside.  
  
"I don't understand what I did that was so horrible that means I'm losing _both_ of my daughters," she says, and you can't help but feel sorry for her, because in her mind it'll never be something that _she_ did. It has to be hard, even if it is fucking wrong.  
  
"You don't have to think of it that way," you say instead of responding directly. "I think Emily's brilliant at what she does, and happy, and I think I'll sort myself out in the near future as well. If that's true, you must've done something right."  
  
You don't talk about your girlfriend or Emily's girlfriend, but just quietly drink a cup of tea together. It's almost nice.  
  
Right before you leave, your mum idly sweeps your fringe to the side, looks at your scar and then sighs. "You can barely even see that it's there anymore."  
  
"I sometimes forget that it is," you tell her, and accept her stilted hug with a twinge of bitter sadness, but it's only a twinge.  
  
Effy pours you a glass of wine when you get back and you shake your head. "Wasn't as bad as I thought. She's not like... in denial, exactly, but something close enough to it for us to just--whatever."  
  
Effy nods and then looks down at the floor. "Think we can do dinner with my mum again, before we leave?"  
  
You feel like an asshole. "Ef. She's just about the only parent we've got in our corner. Of course we can."  
  
It takes so little to fix Effy sometimes that you're constantly amazed that nobody else has managed to do it by now. But then again, maybe you're justthe only one that's been paying attention.  
  
\----  
  
Anthea and Tony have just left for the evening, and you can't help but roll your eyes at Effy when she smirks at you after they've gone.  
  
"Told you you'd grow to like him," she says, and kisses your cheek before running the taps and starting the dishes.  
  
"It's not _like_ so much as _not hate_ ," you correct, and she grins before handing you a dishtowel. "Your mum seems better, though."  
  
"Yeah, she does," Effy says, and you wait for the bitter _for now_ to follow for a few long minutes until you realize it won't.  
  
\----  
  
James, for once not wasted, helps you carry out the last few boxes, and by the time you wind back upstairs for the last time, Effy is just closing thedoor behind her.  
  
"All done?"  
  
"Yeah, we didn't miss anything," she says, and then hands you the keys with a flourish. "Why don't you lock up, yeah?"  
  
"Is this meant to be like, a big moment or something?" you ask with a faint frown and she shrugs placidly.  
  
"Maybe you just have better hand-eye coordination than I do."  
  
You manage to keep a straight face for a moment but then grin stupidly. "You're such a twat sometimes."  
  
Effy smiles back, and leans back against the door frame while you lock the door and then pocket the key. Then, she steps in and kisses you, deepand slow, until you stare at her in a bit of a daze when she finally pulls back.  
  
"One last time," she says, thumbing away a little lipstick at your mouth before pecking you again. "Just as a reminder."  
  
"Babe; you're coming _with_ me. I won't need a reminder," you say, rolling your eyes, and she shrugs happily.  
  
"Fine. Maybe I just felt like it, in that case."  
  
She's ridiculous when she's happy and relaxed like this, and you're going to do whatever you can to keep her this way. "So what's next on the list?"you ask, reaching for her hand, and she grips it comfortably before you both start walking downstairs.  
  
You half-expect her to say something stupid or lewd, but she just smiles faintly and looks away into the distance. "Whatever we want, Katie."  
  
It's the perfect answer, as it turns out.


End file.
